Rejuvination
by salus gem
Summary: Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Warning: Gender Change (Fem!Harry, Fem?). Character Death. Very dark. Depression. Grief.
1. Chapter 1

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

**Beta:** No beta I'm afraid. So if there are any mistakes, I do sincerely apologise.

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**Rejuvenation - Chapter 1**

"Harry mate, you finished? Only we've got to go."

Go? Go where? Harry glanced over from the piece of parchment he was reading to the large Grandfather clock situated in the corner of his office. 6.25pm, he was working a little late again. At least with the kids at Hogwarts he didn't have to worry so much about his timekeeping and he had more flexibility with when to book appointments.

Appointment.

"Oh shit! Sorry Ron, I completely forgot!" Harry quickly grabbed his quill and signed off the report in his hands. "I'll just tidy up a bit and I'll be ready to go. It won't take a minute, promise."

"It's fine." Ron said dismissively.

Harry shuffled and tidies quickly, making sure he sent off the last of his memos, which Ron helpfully held the door open for. Grabbing his wand Harry cast the few locking and security charms on his desk drawers and the filing cabinets. That done all he had left to do was grab his robe and he was good to go.

"Right all done. Sorry about that, it's been rather manic today and I lost track of time."

"It's alright mate, it's not the first time."

No, no it wasn't the first time, Harry sighed. He was always losing track of time, even before he took over as Head of the Aurors he had lost track of time because of one case or another. Today it had been paperwork and piles of the stuff. Why was it when you employed somebody there were only a few little bits of paperwork? But when you fired somebody you had to fill out whole stacks?!

Stupid bloody Tenderfoot! Even after 2 warnings and a disciplinary he hadn't mended his ways. And, granted, Tenderfoot had been working on a case which, as it turned out, was a lot more than it appeared to be, but still!

"So…" Ron started then trailed off as Harry locked the door to his office.

"So what?"

"So, you want to tell me what got you in such a mood earlier?"

"I don't know what you mean." Harry reflected feebly, the lie completely obvious to anyone within hearing distance.

"Come on mate." Ron coaxed and Harry sighed, caving in under the miniscule pressure. He needed to vent; really, really needed to vent.

"Alright, let's just get out of here first." Harry said and sent a glare to the other aurors who had decided to stay on late but had all paused in their work to watch and listen to Harry and Ron. They all quickly averted their eyes when Harry glared at them and went back to work. Harry felt slightly mollified. Slightly.

He and Ron walked through the Ministry and down to the floo area. Thankfully not having to queue for long Harry and Ron landed in the waiting room at St Mungo's for their Quarterly check-ups. Because he and Ron had joined the auror's at the same time their appointments always coincided with each other's so they always went together; 4 times a year for the last nearly two decades.

"Names?"

"Aurors Ronald Bilius Weasley and Harry James Potter. We have an appointment." Ron offered to the Welcome-Witch who didn't even spare them a glance until after she had checked her piece of paper.

"I'm afraid, due to the outbreak of Scrofungulus, your appointment room and healer has been changed. You will now be seen on the First Floor by Healer Wollaston in exam room CL7."

"First floor? Creature Induced Injuries?" Ron asked sounding sceptical. The welcome witch peered at him over spikey-cornered crescent moon spectacles.

"Yes. You will find the healers there are just as capable of performing the Auror health checks as anywhere else."

"I wasn't questioning that…" Ron shifted a little uncomfortably. Harry decided to turn the witch's attention from his friend and onto him instead. He never really understood why they were called welcome witches, none of them ever seemed very welcoming.

"Do you need the auror's help to help keep a quarantine?" He asked and those sharp eyes turned to him.

"Not at this present moment in time Auror Potter." She said sharply then turned back to her parchments on her desk. Harry took that as a dismissal and slapped Ron on the back as they turned to walk towards the elevator. A portly man joined them in the elevator, sporting a flat cap, tweed jacket and bright red jeans. He smiled and nodded at them, his chubby cheeks turning white under the strain of the smile because there was a lot of flesh to move to create the smile. Harry returned the smile with equal humour, not because he felt happy but because the sight of the man's moustache was rather amusing. In fact it looked like one entire side of the man's head was bald, completely and utterly bald. There were no pore marks or stubble, no eyebrows, no moustache and no nostril hair on the left side of the man's face. The right side however sported a bushy eyebrow, full moustache that extended around the corner of the man's mouth, and a thick sideburn leading up to mouse-blonde hair beneath the man's cap.

"Hello there Auror Weasley, Auror Potter. Beautiful day out there isn't it?!" He asked, his broad Yorkshire accent wavering around the enclosed space of the elevator.

"Yes, perfect barbeque weather and it's only March." Ron offered and the man grinned more and bounced once onto the balls of his feet.

"Yes it is that." The man said and pressed a large finger into the number five, the doors slowly closing. He must have seen their questioning gazes because he wiggled his nose, making his moustache move, and grinned. "They've got banana cake in today."

"Ah I see." Harry offered and nearly rolled his eyes. Of course the man would think about food. "So you came to St Mungo's for the banana cake?"

"Oh no!" Those beady eyes widened with alarm. "Oh no I'd never risk coming here just for the banana cake. No, I had a bit of trouble with a cursed shaving set I picked up from a street vendor yesterday. It took off all my hair you see and a bit of skin along with it. Sliced my nostril right open. I had to go to magical artefacts to get the thing out of my nose. They healed me right up, took all day but I had to grow some new skin you see. After it was done I heard somebody talking about the wonderful banana cake in the tearoom and, well, I can't resist a bit of cake."

The elevator came to a halt and announced they were on the first floor. It took another moment for the doors to begin to open but Ron and Harry shuffled forwards closer to them anyway.

"Ah well, sorry to hear about the problems you had. I hope to see you in the Auror department tomorrow filling so we can start an enquiry." Harry said as he stepped out into the hall of the Creature-induced injury ward.

"Ah right you are Auror Potter. I'll be right along there tomorrow." The man waved cheerfully as the doors closed and blocked their view. Seconds after Harry saw the lift continue going up through the numbers. Old habits had him wait to see if the man was indeed telling the truth that he was going to the tearoom. As the pointer came to a halt at the number 5 Harry laughed to himself and rolled his eyes. So suspicious of everyone still, even after all these years he never wholly trusted people's word.

"Come on then Harry, don't want to be late."

It took a few minutes but eventually they were lead into exam room CL7 to wait for the healer to arrive. The medi-witch had seemed surprised that Harry and Ron would wait in the room together and have their examinations at the same time, but she dutifully acquiesced to their wishes and showed them the way. The room was plain, boring and white. Ever so, ever so white. The only splash of colour was a lime green soap holder by the sink and a lime green robe that hung on a peg in the corner. Otherwise everything seemed to be white, or very light shades of grey. Boring, achromatic shades.

"So mate? What happened today?"

"Oh Merlin what _didn't_ happen today?" Harry groaned and sunk heavily into the chair provided. It was an uncomfortable, squeaky white washed wooden thing that dug uncomfortably into his spine and his shoulder blades. "I had another report of a hag being arrested from Tenderfoot which was fine until I saw that Urquhart had interviewed a woman who came in claiming her husband had gone missing. When I went out to check with Urquhart about some mistakes in the report he'd given me I caught Tenderfoot bragging that he'd caught yet another Dark Creature and that he was single-handedly saving the world from them. I could have dismissed that as typical bragging and boasting but Ellison asked whether Tenderfoot had found any of the disappeared children he'd been looking for. Tenderfoot laughed and said no, there was no need to find them because obviously the Hags had eaten them and there would be no evidence. Ellison asked if he had evidence to suspect that the Hags ate the children and Tenderfoot laughed again. Apparently he 'doesn't need evidence, they were hags'.

"I know I was instructed by human resources and the disciplinary board to give him more responsibility so that he got less 'bored' on the job but I'm sorry, his commitment to the aurors and what we stand for just isn't there. He had made no progress on his cases and his attitude was horrific. He was failing to do his job, dismissing important cases, falsifying evidence, giving false information to family members and using his position to go on a personal vendetta against dark creatures. Since it was his third offence I fired him. I've spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon sorting out the paperwork regarding his termination of employment, then the rest of the day sorting through his cases. I'd only just finished it and started on the day to day business when you came in."

"Blimey mate. So Tenderfoot's gone?"

"Yes! And gone for good!" Harry said adamantly. "I don't care what human resources throw at me or the Law Department. I've got enough evidence to send him to Azkaban for a few months. The way I figure it he's getting off easy."

Harry's mouth drew into a grim line. He couldn't believe how horrendous the Tenderfoot situation had gotten, and how long he hadn't noticed. Two weeks was a very long time, especially in missing people, and more specifically in missing children cases. And not only that, but when Harry had seen the case files he had immediately been reminded of similar, more sparse, reports of missing children and had tracked those down too only to find they were the same MO.

"It was all in shambles Ron. It took me only five minutes of reading through the reports of the missing children to notice there were similarities to older, unsolved cases. Granted Tenderfoot couldn't be expected to know that because he's reasonably new on the force, but even in the five years he has been working there he should have picked up on the fact that those missing children reports were the same as the Trengove case two years ago and the Howard case four years ago. It wasn't a hard connection to make. He just couldn't be bothered to make any connections, didn't want to look for them and didn't want to find them. He just wanted to track down Dark Creatures and this was a convenient excuse to go after Hags."

There were a few minutes of silence before Ron broached the topic again.

"So what's happening with his cases now?"

"I've given them to Frost. He's at the top of his game at the moment and we really need someone with that expertise." The door to the exam room opened and in stepped a healer in the usual bright lime green robes carrying a scroll of parchment. Harry decided to quickly wrap up the conversation. "Frost has submitted an excellent list of people to work in his team to solve the case and I've approved each and every one of them. But I'd like you to work with them too Ron please. I have a feeling that this case is a lot bigger than we think it is right now. I want those children found and putting you with Frost's team insures that."

"Right, so no pressure then mate." Ron joked and Harry laughed with him.

"Right then Auror Weasley and Auror Potter. I am Healer Wollaston. Just the routine Auror health checks today then?" Healer Wollaston had a mass of fluffy hair that looked like white candy floss had been stuck down on the pale skin. Two crystal blue eyes shone out amongst the mass of wrinkles surrounding eyes, nose and mouth. Old didn't quite cover Wollaston. A slightly hunched back, careful rickety legs and a very slight tremor to the left hand. Still, there was a patient smile, a glimmer in the bright eyes and a relaxed air about the healer.

"Yes sir." Ron said and cracked his knuckles.

"So which one is going first?"

"I will."

"Urgh Harry!" Ron whined, Harry just grinned at him and got up from his chair to move over to the examination table. He pulled himself up onto it and began undoing his shirt ready for the spells that would require no fabric between them to work properly.

"Do I have your permission to cast spells upon your person?" Wollaston asked, moving around the bed to stand on the other side of Harry where Ron could observe his work.

"Yes."

"Excellent! Then let's get started with a simple diagnostic charm shall we, then we shall go a little more in depth. Respice egritudo." The healer said and waved his wand over Harry's head.

A few spells later Harry got asked to put his robe, shirt, wand holster and wand down on the little table so that nothing would interfere with the more in depth heart, lungs, kidney and liver function. Normal procedural things. Harry removed and bundled up his robe and shirt into a messy ball and shoved it onto the table. His wand holster, with wand still in it, went too along with his watch. His wedding band he tossed to Ron who put it inside his pocket with a grin and a pat. Harry rolled his eyes. Yes Ron never grew out of being smug that because he and Hermione had gold wedding bands they didn't have to remove them for examinations because gold didn't interfere with spells. Platinum on the other hand did interfere with spells.

"Excellent. Alright then, we will examine your heart first. Stabilitas cor. Ah excellent, excellent. And onto the lungs. St-ahem hmm ahem. Oh do excuse me a moment Auror Potter." The healer coughed, hiding his mouth from view with his hand. "Ahem hem…oh I do apologise. Old age you know, it catches up with us all."

Harry and Ron laughed along with the Healer who quickly washed his hands.

"Right that's better. And on with the examination. Are you ready?" The healer asked and Harry nodded, settling himself to wait out the next spell. "Excellent. Here we go then. Stupify!"

A red spell shot out over Harry's head and hit a surprised Ron in the chest. Harry threw himself forwards to grab his wand from the table. He slid it out of his holster and twisted all only taking milliseconds of time. By the time Ron's body hit the floor Harry had spun and taken aim.

Only, red light flooded his vision.

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**Author's Notes:** And so we begin another story. I hope everybody read the warnings at the beginning of this fic. This will be a 'gender changing' fic in where some of the characters will be changed from one gender to the other gender. Boy to girl, girl to boy. There will also be torture in this fic, death, human experimentation….honestly, check the warnings. They are there for a reason.

This story mostly came about because how often do we wish we could just go back in time and make changed; like study harder in school, make more friends, make less friends, do different stuff. Then I considered how it would be possible in a Harry Potter story. Having missed writing Henri from Metamorphose I decided to merge the two ideas and for a new story. Thus, female Harry again eventually and also a step back into youth. It should be an interesting ride. I hope you continue to read and enjoy it with me.

As always you can expect irregular updates. Sometimes you won't hear from me in two weeks maybe even a month, sometimes I will fire out three chapters in a day. It all depends on the chapters and whether I have written enough in advance. I am currently at 60000 words for this story and have sectioned out 14 chapters so you will get those assuming I am still writing about 10 chapters in advance of what I post...if that makes sense.

I hope to hear from you all soon. Happy reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

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Rejuvenation - Chapter 2

Awareness crept in and the first thing Harry became aware of was a blinding pain right through the base of his skull. Wincing he lifted a hand to carefully feel the area even as he desperately attempted to peel back his eyelids to view the world. His fingers slid through sticky, matted strands of hair with crusty bits of dirt clinging desperately to the clumping strands. His fingers felt like they were coated in whatever the sticky substance was which, judging by the pain, Harry was willing to bet was blood.

His fingers tugged on a specific area of hair by accident sending a spiking pain through his head. Okay so he had definitely cut his head. You only got that spiking stinging pain when you pulled on something attached to a wound. Perfect. Carefully he continued feeling around only to find what was definitely a wound when he accidentally bumped his fingertips against the ridges on either side of it.

Gritting his teeth Harry carefully felt around the wound trying to ignore the pain so as to build a mental picture of how bad his wound was. About two inches long, not very wide. A little bit the wrong side of a superficial cut but not too bad. The amount of blood he could feel around the wound was probably only because it was a head wound, those always bled like a…

"AH! I forgot the nightshade!" A scratchy voice reached his ears making him jump. His fingers stabbed straight into the centre of his cut and Harry hissed and squinted his eyes open.

The sight that met Harry was truly bizarre in its contradictories.

He was in a brightly coloured, beautifully light room with sunlight cascading through a floor to ceiling window with sunshine yellow curtains hanging to either side of the light and bordering the top of the window. The walls were a sun dance of yellows, oranges and whites, beautiful despite the strange whirling pattern. Luckily, to break up the dervish of colours, there was a white wood panelling on the bottom third of the wall leading down to a thick grassy green carpet. Rich, elegant furniture decorated the edge of the room; chaise loungers, coffee and side tables with elegantly scrolled table legs, candle holders and lights decorating the surfaces of the tables along with beautiful vases full of flowers. They were all pushed back out of the way of the large rug that took centre stage in the room. It was a magnificent arabesque design on a darker green background captured the eye. The golden, yellow and white threads in an ornate curving design featuring intertwined floral and vine figures was beautiful and something Harry knew only appeared in the houses of people with money. There were landscape pictures on the walls with elegance and a style of paintwork Harry had only ever seen at the Ministry, Hogwarts and when he visited Narcissa Malfoy at Malfoy manor.

Then came the strange contradiction to the airily, light and bright, cheerful living space. Like a hairy black wart on an otherwise beautiful youthful hand, in the corner of the room was a large dark wood potions preparation desk upon which was black cauldron bubbling over a controlled burner. There were ingredients slung around the table, three mortars and pestles littering it and some potion bottles there too. From the walls over the area were some pieces of string and rope where there were different animal skins, animals and tails hung. There were three large baskets full of what looked to be rocks under the table and crouching down looking between the baskets was a man with cotton wool hair, dressed in brilliant lime green robes.

Wollaston?

About to get up and demand to know what was going on Harry became aware of something leaning against his shoulder and glanced to the left slightly. Ron. Ron was asleep or unconscious with his neck bent awkwardly to the side to allow his head to rest on Harry's shoulder as he slept on.

Harry frowned. Strange place, healer present, odd room, and Ron on his shoulder? Not to mention a wound on his head. How did he get here? Where was here? How did he get hurt? What was going on?

Harry frenziedly reached for his wand only to find it wasn't up his sleeve. He didn't even have his wand holster on him. Of course he didn't. He had taken it off in the Examination room as part of the examination routine. At least he was now dressed. Just no wand. No defence, no offence…no magic.

Quickly Harry began to look around the room a little more frantically, trying to piece together as much information as he could from what was available to him. Were there any clues as to where he was? Was there any indication of why he was here? What was out of place? Nothing! Nothing, except the potions table and the rocks in a basket. But there must be! Twenty or so years in the force did not leave him inept at noticing things! Things like…like worn away areas of the carpet, sun-bleached areas on carpets, walls and upholstery. Dust on tables, dust disturbances…which was odd because to the right of him was something beneath a white dust sheet. What could possibly be kept there when everywhere else was covered in dust?

There was a well-worn path from the potions table to a door on the right. The door was narrower than the doors on the left of the room, perhaps it was a bathroom or a cupboard? Then again there was a door identical to it at the back of the room right next to the potions table. Either way, bathroom or cupboard or unimportant area to the general inhabitants of the room which could mean it was a servants passage…Harry didn't know, more investigation needed. While there was bright sunlight filling the room there were no visible signs of bleached materials which could mean all the materials were spelled against such things which wasn't very likely, they were all brand new which was reasonably likely, or the light wasn't actual sunlight and was in fact just spelled artificial light like the ceiling in Hogwarts. That last option was likely as lots of old buildings had those sorts of spells cast on them, especially pureblood ancestral homes where windows were small and therefore more were spelled to appear like they were there.

There was what appeared to be a thin layer of dust on the coffee tables but also rectangular areas where there was no dust. Books had been placed there and prevented the area collecting dust. So where were the books now? Over to the left, on a bookcase by the potions area. Harry couldn't see the titles of the books but judging by their ancient looking binding Harry was willing to bet they were outdated and potentially not books encouraged in circulation any more.

On the right again the room seemed to bend around the corner just a little, a slight curving of the room. Still there was nothing out of the ordinary, just the room continuing with the same brightness and interior design as the rest of the room.

And then Harry saw something that set his teeth on edge, the small hairs all over his body stand on end and his heart beating rapidly.

To the right of him, what he had before dismissed as a pile with a dust sheet over it, was an arm sticking out from under the sheet. It was partially hidden from view and not immediately noticeable upon first glance. But it was definitely an arm and hand. An arm and hand that was stone grey. Obviously a dead arm and hand. Obviously.

So what was under the sheet? Did Harry even want to know? Probably not. Did he need to know? Yes.

Harry jerked his shoulder, jostling Ron who snorted, then grunted, then began to open his eyes.

"Wha-? Harry?"

"Shh." Harry hissed to Ron who blinked with astonishment and sat up straight. He looked around, eyes widening as he took in the room. "Bloody hell, where are we?"

"I don't know." Harry ground out through gritted teeth. He gestured to where the hand was. "Look."

"Bloody hell." Ron swore and reached into his sleeve. Eyes widening he started patting down the rest of his clothes.

"No wand?" Harry pre-empted and Ron licked his lips nervously before shaking his head.

"No, no wand."

"What the hell happened?"

"We were with Healer Wollaston at St Mungo's getting our quarterly checks done. Wollaston stunned you then me and brought us here. He's out there, over by the potions work station."

"I know I saw him, I just didn't know it was him till you just said. So you're saying the healer caught us?"

"Ah you are awake! Earlier than expected too but no matter."

Harry's attention was drawn to the healer who casually stood in front of them with a look of utter nonchalance on his face that it made riled Harry up. Harry shoved himself up onto his feet and paced the few steps towards the man ready to stare the man in the eyes and demand answers. Wollaston raised one caterpillar eyebrow and those sparkling blue eyes just patiently waited. Harry briefly wondered what he was waiting for before the anger eroded that thought and he stamped closer.

"Why have you brought us here? What are you playing at? You-uh!"

Harry's tirade of questions was cut short as his body slammed into something and he was thrown back several feet. He landed on his back and slid across the carpet, the fabric burning the skin he had showing and the impact winding him. He coughed and sat up.

"What the hell?!" He demanded and he saw Ron had frozen to his spot only a step or two away from Healer Wollaston. Ron had his calculating look on his face, the one that said 'logically analysing situation'. Harry didn't have the 'look' but he could do the thinking. Ward. Wollaston had put up a ward inside.

"Now, now Gentlemen. You should feel privileged! You are going to be a part of the biggest breakthrough in modern medicine!" Wollaston held up his hands high in the air to maximise his emphasis of 'biggest'. His eyes were wide and he gave them a beaming smile, happiness radiating from him.

"Breakthrough? You kidnapped us to help with a breakthrough? I'm not a healer. I only have basic first aid. I can't help you." Harry stuttered and Ron nodded in agreement still looking a little puzzled. Wollaston just smiled and clapped his hands.

"None the less, help you shall. You and the others. All of you. Why, if it wasn't for you this breakthrough would never happen and I am so close, _so_ close I can _taste_ it now!" Wollaston said and paced away from them and over to the potions table. "If only I can work out how the…"

The further away he got the less Harry could hear of what he said. Harry pushed himself to his feet and looked at Ron completely bewildered and confused.

"What?!" Was all Harry could manage. Ron shrugged his shoulders and reached out to touch the ward. It couldn't be seen but when Ron did manage to touch it he was thrown back s few metres where he landed in a pile.

"OWWW!" He whinged. "Buggering damnation!" He grossed and stood up rubbing his back. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"No you're not. So, what kind of ward is this? Any ideas? I mean it's obviously a containment ward of some sort but I've never heard of ones that throw people back even with the lightest touch."

"Dunno. Wards aren't my specialty. Reminds me of the kind of ward they use for the dangerously insane at Mungo's though." Ron offered unhelpfully.

"Great. Remind me when we get back to book us both onto a warding course."

"Will do mate, will do."

Harry looked around them. "Now, didn't he mention there were others? Who others? And where are they?"

"Under that blanket with the dead arm?" Ron offered and they both carefully walked towards the pile that was covered in the sheet. Carefully, tentatively they inched closer tensely waiting to bump into the invisible ward wall and ready to react if they suddenly found themselves being thrown into the air. Harry hit the ward a few paces later and was thrown back. He shook it off the best he could but he knew there would be a bruise on his hip from his awkward landing.

A whole three minutes later, after 4 instances of being thrown backwards, they did make it to the pile covered in the sheet. The ward, it seemed, travelled in a somewhat straight line across the room. Since they had no way of marking where the ward was they couldn't tell for sure but Harry estimated that four feet before the backs of the various furniture was where the ward was.

"Ready to look mate?" Ron asked and Harry nodded and crouched down. Ron reached out a careful, freckled hand and lightly grasped the edge of the sheet. Harry held his breath and nodded to Ron again. Ron lifted the sheet.

"Merlin!" Harry breathed.

Bodies. A pile of bodies. Some children, some adults, but all unmoving. Dead. Dead bodies. Some partially decayed. Some seemingly fresh. One body had obviously died a while ago but been moved because the dark bruising along the body's neck and back was visible which meant the body had been on its back for a while after dying and all the blood had pooled at the back of the body. Since it had been moved the discolouration of the skin was easily visible.

Close to Harry, lying face up, was a boy of no more than ten years. The boy's face had a waxy grey-green look to it and his eyes were open and bulging. His cheeks were bulging too and his tongue was sticking out of his mouth. Harry ducked his head a little to see and almost immediately noticed the discolouration on the boy's back was the same dark black bruising the other body had. The boy had been laid on his back since his death. Harry had seen a lot of dead bodies in his time unfortunately and he knew what stages the body went through after death.

He also knew that dead bodies permeated a truly horrific stench from the build-up of gases due to the decomposition of tissue. He was surprised that he hadn't smelt anything at all from the bodies before him but perhaps, since the bodies were in the same room as Healer Wollaston, the healer knew a way to mask the smell.

Harry could see some of the bodies had weird masses pooled in the back of their trousers, the females having masses beneath their skirts on their rears. Harry pulled a face. The bodies had been left long enough that their intestines had squeezed out through their rectums as gasses built up inside the body forced them out. Harry was not very glad he couldn't smell the bodies because he was willing to bet that inside the skin shells were the most obnoxious gasses ever.

"What do you make of it Ron?"

"I think these two on top here, this one and this one, died at approximately the same time. I'd say they've been dead for little over two weeks, if that. Couldn't tell you what killed them though mate. There are a few people I can see in the pile who I'd guess died about a month or so ago but there must be at least eleven or twelve bodies on this pile. Maybe more, I dunno. I'll be honest; I don't want to move anybody yet, not until we have back up."

"I agree. This boy here." Harry indicated to the grey-green boy right next to him. "He's a recovering Dragon Pox victim. He's in the missing person files I retrieved from Tenderfoot. That is Rowan Doyle, age ten, half blood. Went missing during a floo jump from St Mungo's to Diagon Alley."

"Right okay."

"And her, that girl there. That's Sophia Cartwright. Last seen on Harmsworth street by her mother."

"Harmsworth street?"

"Yeah, the one on the muggle entrance to the hospital. Miss Cartwright is a squib born witch and was heading out into muggle London to go home." Harry pointed to the man at the bottom of the pile, the one whose arm stuck out beneath the sheet and alerted them to what was under the sheet. "Now all I have to go on is that tattoo on his arm there, but I seem to remember Stephen Cornfoot, whose wife reported him missing, had a Viking tattoo just like that one. Never returned home after-"

"No, let me guess! He visited St Mungo's the day he went missing."

"Correct. He is one of the cases assigned to Davies. We hadn't made much of a connection between the missing adults and the missing children. Now, with hindsight, it all makes sense." Harry sighed and gestured for Ron to drop the blanket down to cover the people again.

"So Wollaston was abducting his patients?"

"Perhaps not just his patients, anybody he came into contact with it seems. But as far as I could see none of those bodies had injuries so I don't know what caused their deaths. No lacerations, no bludgeoning, no indications of spell work noticeable. It has to be something magical or a poison."

"It wasn't a poison."

Harry spun around looking feverishly from left to right to see where that voice came from.

"Hello? What did you say?" Nobody was there so Harry took one step forwards scanning the area carefully.

"I said it wasn't a poison." Harry's head turned when his ears identified the sound coming from his left. There, peeking out from behind the long, floor sweeping table cloth was a woman.

"It wasn't a poison?" Harry asked, carefully approaching the woman who shrank back a little as Harry approached. Carefully, slowly, like he was approaching a terrified animal, he inched closer. As he came close enough to see around the edge of the table cloth he paused with shock trying to take in what he was seeing.

There was about a dozen, if a few less, people all cowering there. Some looked starved, some looked ill, some looked skittish, some looked shy, some looked hopeful but all, all, of them looked scared.

Harry recognised a few faces he knew from the reports. Holly Corner, Jimmy Clark, two Vaisey children, Winnifred Summerby, Max Tucker. All had been presumed dead because of Tenderfoot's absolute incompetence! Some of the adults Harry knew as well. Griselda Vaisey who had been reported missing along with her children but who had been presumed to have returned home to Germany as a result of her husband's love affair with another woman in their employment. Eloise Perks had a job as a Welcome Witch but after a falling out with her boss over something she had disappeared off the face of the earth back in late November. Isolde Hitchens who had displayed some odd behaviours before her subsequent disappearance which co-workers had put down to being a secret love affair which Hitchens had wanted to keep secret from everybody and thus lead to her dismissive, secretive nature and random disappearances. Harry was willing to stake the condense of his lesser vault on the fact that Hitchens did have a love interest and that because of that she had visited St Mungo's for a sexually transmitted disease test or a pregnancy test.

"Hi." Harry offered everyone, hoping the informal and almost childlike greeting would help them to warm to him. One of the children, Jimmy Clark, offered a wave. The girls offered the barest hints of a smile. The women adopted slight smiles too.

"Hello." Offered the one who had spoken to him before. Harry offered her a professional closed lip smile and held his hand out to her.

"Harry Potter."

"Anabelle Dent."

"So…what can you tell me?" Harry asked and relaxed back a little to sit on the floor. He met each person's eyes one at a time hoping his serious gaze but relaxed body language would coax them into talking.

"Well," Anabelle started, "the healer over there abducted all of us for some nefarious reason relating to experimentation with dangerous and outlawed rituals."

Oh Merlin, Anabelle Dent must be a reporter for a gossip magazine. Harry had to force his smile to stay encouraging all the while wishing he could roll his eyes at her exaggerations, unneeded use of unnecessary adjectives and her general failure to come to the point.

A few moments of blathering by Anabelle lead to Harry wishing he could tap his foot, twiddle his thumbs or bash his head against a brick wall with boredom and impatience.

Something must have shown on his face, either that or impatience got the better of her, Isolde Hitchens interrupted.

"Wollaston is obsessed with staying young. Eternal youth." She rolled her eyes and glared at Anabelle meaningfully. Anabelle harrumphed. "He isn't interested in living forever; he's trying to use a combination of potions, spells and rituals to transfer the soul of one person into the body of another. An adult's soul into a child's body. He keeps failing. That's why he needs us. We are his test subjects. Those are his failures." She pointed to the large pile of bodies.

How could she be so blasé about it?

"I've been here a two months. He feeds us once a day in the evening. Occasionally we get something extra in the evening but mostly it's just one meal. Healthy stuff too, a little bit of each of the food groups. Just not very much, especially not enough to share between us all. At the back of the room over there we have or toilet area. Once a week he spells a tub in for us to bathe in. The ward thing seems to extend most of the way around the room. Where the backs of the furniture are is where the ward begins so don't whatever you do try to sit on a sofa. We are lucky this table is in out warded bit."

"The ward goes around the room?" Ron asked. "Why?"

"Dunno. I assume it's so we can watch him perform his rituals. We are kept near the walls at all times with a clear view into the centre of the room. That's where he does his rituals."

"You're an auror! Have you come to rescue us?" Winnifred Summerby asked hopefully.

With no wand, stuck behind a ward you can't see, being held prisoner by a madman who had been able to cover his tracks for Merlin knew how many years, and nobody knowing exactly when Harry and Ron had gone missing…

…..how did a person answer that poor little girl's question?

"I'll try."

* * *

"There you are, see? That is what you get for your uncooperative, idiotic tantrums! I don't understand why you fail to comprehend what an honour I am giving you!"

Harry couldn't even bring himself to twitch let alone argue. From his position on the floor he could see everybody else around him lying on the ground with pained expressions on their faces. Some of the children were crying. Anabelle had passed out. Jimmy had curled up into an even tighter ball and now remained unmoving.

Wollaston had come to them all after he'd finished work declaring he thought he had corrected the problem and had wanted to try out the new and improved ritual right then and there. He had pointed at Griselda and Holly and demanded that they step forwards. They had refused. Holly screaming and crying, gripping onto Honora Sloper and shaking violently. Griselda had scowled and shook her head, immediately reaching out for her children and holding them to her kissing their heads repeatedly and mumbling to them. Her hand had shaken and tears silently streamed down her face.

Before Harry and Ron argued the healer had demanded the two come to him but then sent a wordless curse at the ward.

Harry had expected the spell to enter the ward wall but it didn't. It impacted the wall itself and Harry had been absolutely horrified to see the ward ripple, the ripples travelling out from the point of impact and travelling out. With abject horror Harry could only watch as the ripples reached the floor then started travelling towards them.

The children screamed, the women screamed and sobbed even before the ripple reached them. Harry didn't have time to ask or react though because at that moment the ripple touched his foot.

Pain shot through each part of his body. It was like electricity spiking through every muscle, every tendon, every organ, every nerve, and every _fibre_ of his being. It was like being flayed alive. He was burning. He was being stabbed. He was being drawn and quartered. The air left his lungs with a scream from his entire being. His yell joined the chorus of others already in mid verse. He knew he was writhing, shaking, _moving _to try to escape the pain. Anything to get rid of the pain. _Anything_.

Then it was gone and he had been left motionless on the ground. All of his muscles felt like jelly. His brain was disconnected from his limbs. He couldn't move. He couldn't think of moving. He couldn't even breath properly, the basic function happening weakly and without any conscious control.

Everybody else was rendered immobile too.

What spell was that?!

"Benefit of being a healer. You know how to heal pain and therefore know how to give it. That is a spell that mimics the effects of the box jellyfish's sting without the death afterwards." The healer boasted. "Now if you had only come when I instructed none of that would have happened. You should be appreciative and complying to my efforts to help the wizarding world, not try to hinder progress with your flagrant obstinacy and idiocy. Now, Wingardium Leviosa."

Harry, as week as a new born, tried and failed to lift his head to see what happened. The action sapped the remaining energy from his body and he slumped to the floor again. He needn't have bothered. Griselda's limp body floated past him and out through the ward. She was lowered onto the arabesque decorated rug and then Wollaston went back and levitated Holly's body over. There was a slight ripple Wollaston reactivated the ward.

Harry couldn't see much more from where he was laid. He could only see Griselda's face. The woman limp and unmoving except for her eyes which rolled around their sockets completely wild and panicked as they hopelessly searched for escape.

Wollaston started talking and once or twice Harry saw the man's shoes and trouser legs as the man travelled to and fro in front of Griselda. Harry tried to get his body to move but his limbs wouldn't cooperate. They tried and Harry kept forcing himself but he only made it up onto his elbow before he was completely exhausted.

It gave him a slightly better view over the coffee table that blocked the majority of his view before. Wollaston was walking around drawing circles with salt. There was a large cauldron in the middle of the room that had purple smoke rising from it. There were also runes drawn all over the place. Griselda was lying in one circle inside of a big circle and Holly was lying in another circle opposite.

Harry struggled up some more, trying desperately to sit up.

Wollaston began chanting long lists of words continuously. Harry didn't recognise any of them and continued to struggle up and up. His arms shook manically with the effort it took to attempt such a movement. His stomach muscles burned like wildfire despite the rapidly chilling air as they tried to contract and force his body upright. It was such a hard task but Harry eventually managed it then had to hold his breath instead of panting because his breath was visible it was so cold in the room and he needed to see.

The air cleared in front of him just in time to see Griselda breath out a long out breath which carried with it a small glowing ball of light which Harry had seen once before at the lake with Sirius in third year. When the dementors had tried and nearly succeeded to kiss the soul from Sirius. The glowing ball was Holly's soul.

"NO!" He yelled. "NO!"

He looked frantically over to Holly to see the little girl struggling to breath.

"Yes! Yes it's working! It's _working! Haha!_" Wollaston cried and clapped his hands. Harry screamed.

"NO! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!"

"Shut up! This is history in the making and…oh no…no no no no no NO!"

What? Harry snapped his eyes to see what was happening. The small glow from Griselda had travelled across the circle and was just entering the circle where Holly lay. Holly's body started quivering and shaking. The girl made a small sound. As the glow of Griselda's soul slipped into the girl's mouth the girl started seizing violently. Wollaston rushed over waving his wand frantically but as he did so there was a huge flash of light, he was flung back and as the light disappeared it revealed Holly who lay silently and still on the floor, pale, limp and lifeless.

"NO! It always fails at the last moment! Useless." With a flick of his wand Holly's lifeless body flew across the room landing on the pile of other dead bodies. It was done with such a casualness that it was almost like throwing your card down on the discard pile. Only it was done with a human. Harry felt his eyes well up with tears. His little girl was Holly's age. 12 years old. Only 12 years old and already dead.

Harry felt absolutely terrible as he felt grateful it wasn't his daughter.

"Still alive but completely useless. What a waste of my time." Harry glanced up through wet lashes and bleary eyes to where Wollaston was now crouching over the limp but still breathing body of Griselda. He pinched her nose with his finger and thumb and held her mouth closed with his other fingers.

"NO! LET HER GO YOU MONSTEROUS BASTARD!" Ron yelled.

"MURDERER!" Harry yelled his fury all wound up and bound together in one growled out word.

Wollaston didn't even blink. He just held Griselda's face until the shaking stopped and Griselda succumb to being asphyxiated to death.

"She had no soul, she wouldn't live anyway and at least this way her death wasn't worthless, even if the experiment was a failure. Still, you cannot be successful without a few setbacks."

"Yes but your setbacks kill people! You are nothing more than a murderer!"

"I am a Healer!" Wollaston said and stood up with an unholy fire in his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Then heal her!" Harry demanded and Wollaston sneered.

"What for? She's dead, she is beyond help now."

"Yeah she's beyond help now. Healers are supposed to help people. Not harm them. Not _kill_ them!"

"I am helping people. What is the suffering of a few compared to the healing of the masses?"

"You are insane. You are absolutely insane!" It was Ron that said that though the words had only been mini-seconds from Harry's own lips. Wollaston didn't care, he just shrugged.

"Insanity is just a form of genius nobody understands. You should feel privileged to be witness to my medical triumph."

"More like murderous disaster. You are no genius. You are the scum of the earth."

They saw the spell coming but even as the ripples came and hit them again there was nothing they could do to escape the torture. Harry's world exploded into a roaring agony and then into blackness.

* * *

Harry scooped up some water onto the little girl's head helping her to wash her hair. Next to him Honora was doing the same for Winnifred. Ron was helping Sigmund to dry off and get dressed while Anabelle helped Jimmy and Max split the food up.

"Nearly done now Mafalda." Harry said calmly and the little girl nodded silently and curled up into a tighter ball. Harry sighed and scooped up some more water onto the long waving strands. It was hard to reach the girl's hair line because she had scrunched down so much. The girl's fringe was thankfully swept back with the rest of her hair due to the washing process so at least Harry knew he hadn't missed any hair. She could do with a haircut though. Harry might not know much about hair but he could identify split ends and he knew her fringe was far too long now, reaching to the tip of her button nose.

"Nearly done. I just need to wash the top of your head so can you close your eyes for me?"

"Okay." Mafalda whispered and Harry glanced around to see she had closed her eyes. He scooped up the water as quickly as he could to rinse off the soap from the girl's hair then swept it all back again.

"Good all clean and ready to go."

Mafalda opened her eyes and looked at Harry with those unnerving pale sage green eyes. Around the girl's pupil was a ring of slightly darker green but the majority of her iris was a pale silvery green as if the colour of her eyes had been bled away. It was unnerving.

Mafalda didn't say anything at all just nodded to Harry's words and began climbing out of the bath. Harry held up the towel so the girl had some privacy and then left her alone so she could dry and dress herself.

"Hey Jimmy, Max. Whoever's having the next bath needs to get over here so I can do your hair." Harry called and Jimmy ran over immediately. He stripped off while Harry looked skyward and only when Harry heard the splash of water did he look back down again. "Right let's get you clean."

It was odd to help with bath time. Harry hadn't needed to help his children bath since they reached eight years old and even before that sometimes they managed by themselves. All Harry had to do was sit in the room with them to make sure they didn't drown, or sit outside the door just in case. Lily had dragged out bath time the longest. She had wanted help right up until she was ten, then had started trying to be more independent. James hated being helped to bathe. He had always resented having a bath anyway but the indignity of being helped was not nice for him. He stopped having baths at seven and insisted on having a shower instead. At eight years old Harry and Ginny had felt confident enough to leave him to his own devices in the shower and go downstairs to leave him to it. Albus had been different again. He had endured it; played with toys in the bath with Lily those few times they shared their baths when they were younger. Then as he grew up he liked to try by himself but always wanted an adult nearby just in case he got it wrong. He wasn't blessed with a great deal of confidence that boy.

None of Harry's kids just patiently waited to be cleaned, not like the kids in Wollaston's 'care'. They just went through the motions. But then it wasn't really something they could take enjoyment in. The water was only lukewarm. The soap was minimal and not exactly sweet smelling. There was no shower head, nor was there a bucket to scoop up the water with so they couldn't clean their hair by themselves they needed somebody else to do it. It was undignified and unpleasant. The most Harry could say about it was that it was functional and borderline hygienic. That was the best they could hope for.

When the children were all clean the adults took their turns and then they ate the meagre offerings of food for the evening. Harry wished he could give some of his food to the children but it had to be fair and keep each portion the same as the next. Their stomachs all grumbled at the paltry amount of food but there was nothing to be done. After three weeks of being held by Wollaston, Harry had grown used to the captivity. His body was adjusting to the lack of food, his awareness of time had altered and his mood had dampened. All attempts at escape had proved useless. He couldn't find an end or a weakness in the ward. Without a wand he couldn't sufficiently break or damage the ward. His wandless magic was limited and he couldn't even work an 'accio' wandlessly, something he was going to have to work hard to rectify when he got out of the place.

Captivity was immensely boring. Harry and Ron had taken to reciting auror rules and regulations to pass the time. They recounted old stories, them and the whole group. They'd learned all about each other's lives, they'd learned about each other's jobs. They had made up stories about what their friends and families were doing but that was an activity that was done sparingly because they didn't want to get too upset by it. Too much talking about his family made Harry depressed and it only made his heart ache with missing Ginny and the kids even more. So sparingly did it.

Auror training did cover how to keep your mind and body active during captivity but then again Harry had done his auror training when he was eighteen. Now, at thirty nine years old, most of that training had been forgotten. And despite being head of the auror department, and despite Ron effectively being the deputy head, they couldn't remember the policies they had written on the bloody stuff. They were going to have to start revising it when they got out…or rewriting it. They could just organise refresher courses.

Oh and all the other things he had to do. There was a whole list he had mentally accumulated. The dealing with basic training that he'd forgotten. He had found lots of faults chatting about the various policies at the ministry. He'd have to put pressure on people to get things changed when he got out. Then there were the new policies that had to be brought in: The most important being a tighter regulation of the Healers and Medi-witches and Wizards at St Mungo's. How everybody had missed that Wollaston was completely off his rocker was astounding. Somebody in a position of trust like that, where they had members of the public vulnerable and in their care, should be regulated a lot more firmly so that situations like the one Harry was in now just wouldn't happen! Everybody would naturally trust a healer, but look where that trust had landed Harry and the others. They couldn't afford for something like that to happen again.

Also trackers were definitely something Harry would bring in. Three weeks without any of the other aurors finding them. Three weeks and nothing. Harry knew Wollaston was very good at abducting people and had been doing it for years upon years, but for them still not to have been discovered? Harry might make all aurors wear traceable wrist bands. Ones with a tracking spell in them so that they could be found…except in the wrong hands that would be bad.

Damn it.

What about portkeys to be kept on auror's persons at all times? That would be good. Helpful. A portkey to a secure room in the Ministry. Well that would work but most of the time it wasn't aurors who got taken hostage.

And it certainly wouldn't help Harry's situation.

Or Ron's…or the new person Wollaston was levitating through the ward.

"There. That should even out the numbers now. Let's see. Two, four, six, eight, ten and twelve. Excellent!" Was all Wollaston said as he lowered his newest victim to the ground. Then he left, blathering on to himself about different things.

Harry shuffled over to the newest member of their group. Harry recognised the face almost immediately. Cameron Wood. Youngest child of Oliver Wood and Jessie Wood both ex-Quidditch stars now turned coaches for their respective teams Puddlemore United and the Wigtown Wanderers. The Wood family had become quite close friends after Ginny's Quidditch days. Ginny had spent a brief amount of time playing for the Wanderers and made friends with Jessie, a friendship that had lasted even after Ginny changed teams. Cameron and Niall usually ended up at the Potter house for a friendly Quidditch game or to sleep over while their parents were busy with work and their grandparents couldn't look after them.

And now this. Cameron was in Harry's care again, only this time the situation was useless and Harry couldn't do his duty and protect Cameron.

"Blimey. Is that Wood's kid?"

"Yeah. Cameron."

"Merlin's saggy ball sack." Ron groaned.

That about summed it up.

* * *

AN: And there you have it, the next chapter. Thank you for everyone who added this story to their favourite's list, it was much appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

Notes: Short chapter but that is because of the plot line. Lots of things are about to start happening.

* * *

Rejuvenation - Chapter 3

The coughing was stopping his sleep. Harry was torn between feeling guilty for wishing the boy would just shut up and guilty that he couldn't help him.

"Sigmund? You okay?"

"Yes I…" He coughed again, followed by a retch and heave. Then there was a wet sound of a liquid splattering on something.

Harry was up and alert immediately. He threw himself over onto his front and up onto his knees to see the boy. He was coughing into his hand but blood was pouring off of his hand onto the floor.

"Oh Merlin! Okay…okay. Alright Sigmund. Don't panic. Try to stay calm alright? Ron! RON!" Harry blurted trying to take control of the panic he could hear in his own voice.

Harry crawled over to the boy taking his hands in one of his. With his other hand he smoothed his back gently rubbing in circles. Every vertebrae of Sigmund's spine stuck out like pebbles in sand, harsh and unexpected. Sigmund leaned back into the touch with a soft moan then began coughing and retching again. More blood splattered into his hand. Harry swallowed nervously to try to lubricate his throat because even he, with limited understanding of health, knew that coughing and vomiting blood was bad. Very, very bad.

"Bloody hell! Okay…shit okay." Ron blundered for a moment. He made to move to the left then the right then just seemed to judder on the spot for a moment before heaving a great breath and lunging for the water. "Here, will a drink help?"

"No…no…don't want to…" Sigmund moaned and moved one of his blood covered hands to his stomach. He rubbed it then his body heaved forwards abruptly and more blood splattered to the floor. The boy collapsed to the side and lay there breathing weakly.

"It's okay Sigmund, stay with me. It's alright. Just breathe sweet heart. You're okay." Harry murmured, shifting a little so he could rub the boy's back. Sigmund shuddered in a breath then gave a weak heave and blood dribbled from his mouth onto the floor.

"Sigmund? Sigmund?" Mafalda crawled across the floor to her sister. She gagged at the sight of the blood and quickly turned to look at her brother. She stroked Sigmund's hair and Harry saw the siblings share a weak smile.

"It's alright. Everything's going to be okay." Harry tried to sooth them but he knew his words were lies. He knew they were. And the Vaisey children probably knew they were too.

"Sigmund…" Mafalda whispered as if to say something else. Sigmund just heaved again and lots more blood spewed from her mouth like a wave upon the shore.

"Okay, it's okay Sigmund. It's okay."

"Vomiting blood is not okay." Anabelle whispered into Harry's ear. He waved her off like you'd do to an annoying fly but she was persistent. "He must have internal bleeding…or…or a ruptured stomach ulcer…or he could be mortally ill with some disease we will all catch."

"Anabelle, shut up and bugger off would you? Talking like that isn't going to help anyone!" Ron scowled at the woman hoping to stem the tide of hysterical verbal diarrhoea. It was too late though. Anabelle had gone into a complete panic. She threw herself away from Sigmund and started pacing up and down crying and wailing and begging.

"We're all going to die! We're all going to die! I DON'T WANNA DIE! I'm too young to die! I can't catch a fatal disease and DIE! I can't! SOMEBODY HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP! HELP!"

Harry scowled but quickly tried to reassure Sigmund and Mafalda who were looking teary. Sigmund's breaths, weak though they were, were more rapid now as he started to cry.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. Don't listen to Anabelle. It will be fine, okay? Just try to stay calm and we will see what we can do for you."

"SOMEBODY HELP!"

"Ron can't you shut her up somehow?"

"What do you want me to do mate? I can't very well spell her silent can I? And I don't know how to render anyone unconscious without physical injury."

"Don't worry, I'll do it!" Honora said and slowly got up from where she had been laid. Her movements were sluggish and weak due to starvation and lack of nutrients. She slowly walked towards Anabelle, each movement looking to be exhausting.

Which is why Harry was stunned silly when Honora slapped Anabelle around the face with a lot more force than he'd seen from a woman's slap in years. Anabelle's head snapped to the side and the woman tripped and fell to the ground as the impact made her twist around so far she lost her balance.

"Shut up you hysterical cow!"

Harry tried to tune out the woman who descended into petty bickering and concentrated on the Sigmund again. There was another trickle of blood down the boy's chin and he was getting paler by the second. Harry smiled weakly and smoothed the boy's hair.

"I want my mummy." He said looking less like the strong boy of nine years as he had in the photograph in the case files back at Auror headquarters. His pale green, nearly colour bleached, eyes were wet and glistening with tears.

"I know you do." Was all Harry could say because Griselda was just a lifeless decaying body on the discard pile now. Just another body among dozens.

"What in the blazes is going on down here?! Who is making all this racket?! Don't you know I need my sleep otherwise how am I going to continue my genius research?!"

"Oh shut up you crackpot old fool!" Ron insulted and Wollaston's eyes glinted like marble in the limited early summer morning light.

"How dare you-! Oh." Wollaston noticed Sigmund and the blood on the floor. Harry felt the second the healer's eyes caught a glimpse of the ill boy and the blood. He felt it like a full body blow and curled over the boy to hide him from the man's view. With a disappointed scowl the healer drew his wand. One spell later and Harry found himself flat out on the floor unable to move a muscle as a second spell had Sigmund floating out of the warded area.

"No. NO!" Harry croaked out and then yelled. Wollaston paid him no mind.

The seconds seemed to pass like hours. Harry didn't know what the next second would bring.

Sigmund floated through the air giving the occasional weak couch which sent more blood splattering out of his mouth and into the air. Some dripped down onto the floor leaving a trail of blood in the boy's wake. No sooner had he passed through the ward did the spell holding Harry to the ground release him. With great effort Harry pushed himself up to his feet and pushed his body through the few steps forward to be closer to the boy. Each step felt like he'd done it with several tonnes of weight around his body but he did it. Next to him Mafalda managed to half crawl and half slide her way closer to her brother. She was whimpering and crying, reaching out to Sigmund.

The little boy floated across the room and at the half way point gave a weak moan and another small heave which sent more blood spilling to the floor and drenching the carpet. He floated over to the chaise lounge and was lowered onto it. Mafalda clawed her way up Harry's leg so she could stand as close to the ward wall as possible. Harry helped her up, being aided by Ron. Mafalda leaned into them and turned her face into Harry's side trying to hide her face against their bodies but at the same time keep an eye on her brother; fearful but hopeful at the same time.

Harry looked at Ron and the red head stared at him hopelessly with twin tears falling from his eyes. Harry shut his eyes briefly.

Merlin help that little boy.

Harry clenched his teeth and squared his shoulders. Reaching one hand out to Ron he let it rest on his friend's shoulder while he curled his other arm around Mafalda. Opening his eyes he set them resolutely on Sigmund determined not to look away.

Sigmund looked steadily back. His eyes on Mafalda.

He looked sickly and weak, his appearance bellying the truth of the severity of his condition. His skin was so ashen grey that he could have been a piece of paper. His skin glistened with sweat and his hair was wet with sweat and blood. His clothes were drenched in it revealing just how skinny the wretched boy was now.

"Oh dear." Wollaston clicked his tongue up against the roof of his mouth. "Well, there's nothing for it. Avada Kedavra."

"No! NO!" Ron yelled. Harry coughed out a wheeze of disbelief and Mafalda screamed a blood curdling shrill. Other screams came from behind them but the only thing ringing in Harry's ears were those two horrible words to the killing curse.

The bright sickly green light flew through the air and smacked Sigmund straight in the chest.

Sigmund passed over with the softest of exhales as Harry, Ron and Mafalda screamed.

Harry didn't remember much about the next few minutes. Afterwards, as he lay on the floor cuddling a boneless Mafalda and leaning up against Ron both seeking and giving comfort, he was able to recall a few things. He remembered Wollaston saying something about putting animals down when they were feeble like that, and how it was the biggest mercy he could offer. He remembered Ron, or perhaps himself, or maybe both of them, or maybe even all of the captives, yelling that Wollaston was a murderer. A cold-hearted vicious killer. And he knew with absolute clarity that one of them screamed that the world would condemn the man for the atrocities and crimes against humanity and that no matter what break through the man made in the name of medicine he would forever be labelled the most odious and immoral being to walk the planet besides Voldemort.

That was when the pain came. One agonising curse after another after another until Harry was the only one conscious. He watched through exhausted eyes as Wollaston stormed over to his workbench and began researching more fervently than before.

* * *

Days drifted by. Days, then a week, then two weeks, then three. Two more rituals had taken Isolde Hitchens, Daniel Stirling, Anabelle and little Max with them. Max had died in the ritual. Anabelle and Isolde lost their souls then had their bodies smothered to death by Wollaston. Daniel had somehow survived the ritual but had spent all his time after Isolde's soul entered his body screaming. The screams had gone on for an hour before Wollaston 'put him down' as if the poor boy was an animal.

Mafalda had been unmoving for days. The girl just lay there blinking occasionally looking every bit an exhausted shell of a girl. Exhausted, grief stricken and bereft. Hopeless, defeated and beaten down. Harry, Ron, Honora and Eloise had all tried their hand at comforting the girl. Even Cameron, Jimmy and Winnifred had tried but the children had no more success than the adults. In the end they had just taken to taking it in turns to sit with the girl.

"It doesn't make sense!"

"What?" Harry asked looking at Ron who was yet again pacing backwards and forwards. It was Harry's turn to comfort Mafalda who was laid with her head on his lap as he stroked her hair.

"There's no clear reason for how he's selecting the pairs for the ritual. I mean, Griselda and Holly were together so I thought, you know, that women would be paired with girls and men with boys. But then Anabelle and Max were put together and so were Isolde and Daniel. It couldn't have been because Wollaston had run out of girls because Mafalda is still here. So either there's some weird calculation he has of who will work best with who, or it's completely random. It doesn't make sense."

"None of it makes sense." Honora scoffed.

"Except for the part where none of the children are below the age of 8 years old. There doesn't even seem to be a rational reason why he has chosen the people he has. It's more like he picks up people of convenience."

"That's true. But he has been careful, very careful, to not take too many at once. The Vaisey's were having a winter check-up because they had suffered from muggle flu so the whole family was together. That was a month or so before me and Harry got taken. Then Cameron arrived a few weeks after us during a Hogsmeade visit in May. You," Harry indicated to Honora, "were here a week before the Vaisey's. Eloise has been here close to three months, she got taken in February."

"Yes but for some reason I'm still here and some of the people who got here after me have already been used in the ritual." Honora said. "So we have absolutely no way of guessing who will be next."

"No idea at all."

They lulled once again into silence, each of them thinking things through trying to understand what was going on. They had no hope of understanding though because they didn't know what the ritual demanded, they didn't know what crackpot scheme Wollaston had created. They couldn't contemplate the atrocities he was committing as anything more than atrocities.

"Why does he not pick children younger than nine years old?" Cameron asked quietly. The once vibrant youth had become sullen and withdrawn. The side effects of captivity, torture and certain death were oppressive.

"Well Sigmund was the youngest at eight wasn't he?" Ron asked and Eloise shook her head.

"No he was nine. Max was nine too."

"Oh okay. Nine then." Ron corrected.

"But why nine? I'm thirteen. Mafalda's only ten. Jimmy's eleven. Winnifred is eleven too. Daniel was twelve, he got snatched after only coming home for Easter the week before." Cameron observed angrily, the Scottish making the words harsher than normal.

"Well I suppose again Wollaston just took whoever was easiest to get his hands on. You were at Mungo's too weren't you when you were taken?" Ron answered trying to be reasonable. Harry could see his friend's brain was scrabbling and frantically trying to piece together each and every little puzzle piece only to find none of them fit with each other.

"Yeah. Dad took me." Cameron said with an eye roll. "Wanted to check that my Quidditch injury had healed properly. Said Madam Pomfrey was good at what she did but she was getting on in years and she might have missed something. Typical Dad being overly dramatic." Typical teenager dismissing care and love as drama and bossiness.

"Well that's it then. You were only taken because of convenience. There's no real logical choice behind it."

"Great. Wrong place at the wrong time. Why do I have the worst luck?!"

"Oh I wouldn't say that Cameron." Eloise cooed gently to the teenager. Cameron stiffened up at the coo, no doubt thinking it was patronising. "I wouldn't say you had the worst luck. You nearly made it onto the Quidditch team in your first year didn't you?"

"Yeah, it was just bad luck that they all discovered I was only eleven and couldn't play. I don't understand why eleven year olds can't play house Quidditch! It's some crap about needing a year to settle into Hogwarts but it never did Harry Potter any harm joining in his first year did it Harry?" Cameron demanded and Harry shrugged so that he wouldn't be outright agreeing but wouldn't disagree with the teenager's words either. Teenagers were tricky beings. Cameron nodded and gave Eloise a pointed look. "See?"

"Yes well your magic has a lot of maturing to do during the first year of school life." Eloise continued and this time her words were patronising. She carried on talking about the reasons why wands weren't given out to children under eleven years old because of health reasons but also maturity reasons. She also talked about how growing into teenage-hood caused more stresses on the body and magic of wizards and witches.

And it was then that Harry noticed. Despite being thirteen years old, Cameron hadn't started puberty yet. Hadn't started. Some children were late bloomers sure, others were early bloomers. But at thirteen Cameron hadn't started, was short compared to others of a similar age and Harry was willing to bet that Cameron's magic hadn't started to grow and change with puberty.

It was the same with all the other children. They were on the cusp of puberty, at the time when their bodies prepared for the change from childhood into adulthood. They were all children who hadn't started the most difficult physical, emotional, hormonal and magical change in their lives. They hadn't started it yet. Which meant they were all at that time when their magic and everything else was open to outside influences and…

Merlin's saggy left testicle!

Oh great Merlin's hairy arse!

"RON!" Harry hissed. Ron abruptly turned to him and in the peripheral of Harry's vision he noticed that the others had turned their heads as well.

"Yeah?"

"It's about puberty!" Harry said and Ron frowned, completely confused. Harry gestured his ginger haired friend closer so he could try to keep the whole conversation hushed. Thankfully Mafalda was asleep on his lap otherwise he'd have to get rid of her too just to hold the conversation.

"What does puberty have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything!" Harry insisted. "Wollaston needs children who have not yet started puberty, or children who have just started it and therefore their bodies are already beginning to struggle under the onslaught of extra hormones, chemicals and magical fluctuations. It's the same reason why children have to be a certain age before starting Hogwarts and before getting their wands. It's because it's safer for the children to go through all of those changes in a safe magical environment because Hogwarts can take outbursts of accidental magic and sometimes because of all the magic in and around at Hogwarts excess magic is essentially burned off."

"So what does that have to do with Wollaston?"

"Don't you see?" Harry said and suddenly had a flashed image of Hermione giving him and Ron a lecture and starting it with those words. "If Wollaston needed to mess around with their souls, their bodies are in so much turmoil already it's easier to get away with adding a new soul into the body because the body, chemicals and magic have so much distracting them they wouldn't noticed. The new soul would just be accepted because there are too many other things going on with it for it to _bother_ noticing something different."

"Bloody hell."

"It's a bit like what happened to me as a baby." Harry pointed up to the scar on his head. "My body was so busy growing up that it didn't notice a little bit extra. It just accepted it and I grew up around it. Those are critical points in child development; the earliest years and the pre-pubescent and pubescent years."

"Holy fuuu…" Ron started to say then quickly closed his mouth to stop the swearword. His eyes were wide with astonishment and dawning horror. He quickly glanced around them to the children. "So does that mean the children for the ritual will be chosen based on whether they are going into puberty or not?"

"Yes I think so. I mean take Daniel; he had some basic signs of puberty. Despite the lack of food he had hit a growth spurt. He also complained about itching in his crotch because of the hair."

"And Max? He was titchy."

"Max had signs of pubic hair under his arms didn't he? And he was always adjusting himself in his trousers."

"Okay." Ron nodded. "How about Holly?"

"I didn't know Holly that well but I'm willing to bet she was just hitting puberty. When girl's hit it they get internal changes first don't they? Like their ovaries and stuff? I don't know. Lily hadn't started yet so I didn't read that far ahead in the Child development book." Ron laughed.

"Blimey you actually read that thing?"

"Well didn't you? For Rose?"

"No way. I let Hermione deal with it." Ron said with a cheeky smile. Harry couldn't help he, he laughed. It was typical Ron really…and typical Hermione. "I think you are right though. I mean puberty is all about growing and changes going on with genitalia. A woman's genitals are inside them so it makes sense for those do change and stuff first."

"Mm. At any rate it doesn't help us much with our situation now." Harry grossed and looked around. The others had clearly heard; Honora, Eloise and Cameron anyway. Jimmy and Winnifred were quite a little way away. Harry thought Mafalda was still asleep so it was unlikely she would have heard.

"No but it does explain a few things." Ron said and Harry shot him a questioning look. Ron shrugged. "At least we now know why Mafalda, Jimmy and Winnifred have been held for so long without being experimented on. It also explains why Wollaston doesn't conduct the rituals more often. He has to wait."

"Right." Harry nodded.

"Yeah wait until we hit puberty. Great! As if being a teenager wasn't hard enough." Cameron grossed, eyes glistening with unshed, angry tears.

"Oh Cameron…" Eloise said and reached out a hand. Cameron slapped it away angrily.

"Keep the hell away from me. I don't want your pity! Leave me alone!"

"It will be okay Cameron!"

"No it won't! I'm going to be next to die because I'm the fucking oldest! I'm going to start puberty any day now and when I do I'm going to die and there's nothing I can do to stop it! I hate you!"

Harry shared a grim look with Ron. What could you say to that? You couldn't comfort Cameron because the words were truthful. You couldn't deny them. You also couldn't really correct the bad language because really? What was the point?

As defeatist as it was there wasn't much point. They had tried everything and there was nothing they could do except wait. Wait for help or wait for death.

* * *

**Notes:** I recognise that puberty usually starts long before a person reaches 13, however some children do have delayed development. More specifically, children who are very sporty (eg Gymnasts) have delayed puberty because of their sports. This is true for Cameron.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

Authors Note: Rather short chapter, only 2000words, but at least we are moving on!

* * *

Rejuvenation - Chapter 4

Ron helped Harry spread the sheet down over the pile of dead bodies. As awful as it was to have to move the sheet at all and see those other decaying, grotesque bodies, they needed to cover up the bodies of the two newest editions to the mass grave.

Oddly, unexpectedly, it wasn't Cameron. It was poor Jimmy and Eloise. Bath time had revealed to them that Jimmy's balls were red and swollen as well as some of the skin around his genitals being slightly red with sprouting hair. Harry had been plagued by guilt ridden and horror filled nightmares that night and from the tired looks on all the other adult's faces they hadn't slept well either.

The next day Harry, Ron, Eloise and Honora had said and waited in silence. Time had dragged by slowly as they waited to see who would be chosen. They had said their goodbyes with silent gazes, trying to hide from the children what they knew would happen. At seven o'clock exactly, Wollaston had walked in and cast his horrible jellyfish spell on the ward rendering them all useless to fight or move while the ward was down.

Eloise and Jimmy had floated out. Tears flowed silently from Eloise's eyes. Jimmy made low panicked sounds but was too weak because of the spell to actually fight it.

Harry had fought the exhaustion and weakness caused by the spell and had managed to force his body to crawl forwards but he made it to the edge of the ward just as it sprung back into place. He had been flung back and impacted the wall behind. Pained, limp, winded and exhausted he could only sit there and watch and wait.

And now Eloise and Jimmy were dead. The adult selected randomly, the child because he had hit puberty.

But the truly horrible thing was that the ritual had worked.

It had worked.

Wollaston had exclaimed and danced about with victory shouting that he had succeeded and that why the answer didn't occur to him before was so stupid because the answer was so simple!

Apparently two souls could not exist inside the same host at the same time. By extracting two souls and placing the adult soul into the child's body, leaving the child's soul to disperse, Wollaston had succeeded in his experiment to become young again.

Of course that meant had had to check whether the soul in the child's body had all the adult's memories. Illegally using veritaserum on the body of Jimmy everyone had heard that indeed Eloise's soul did retain all the memories of her time as Eloise. Shockingly though, Eloise also had all of Jimmy's memories. Wollaston rationalised that then dismissed it as memories being imbedded in the body but also carried in the soul so even without one there was the other. Apparently that didn't matter to him as long as his experiment worked and the adult could retain their memories.

He had then killed Eloise's empty husk of a body to check whether her soul could live on without its original body being alive.

That was confirmed too. Eloise screamed as she watched herself get murdered. Harry supposed seeing oneself could drive you insane. That was why when you played with time turners you could not be seen.

The experiment ended when Jimmy, or Eloise, jumped up and ran over to the potions desk. Without warning and without being stopped Eloise grabbed a knife and slit her own throat.

Wollaston's roars of anger were deafening. When he calmed down he flicked his wand to send both bodies to the mass grave and grumbled to himself about finding the perfect host for his soul so that, once he had conducted a few more tests to make sure the results of the last ritual hadn't been a fluke, he could make himself young once more.

"I don't know what to say." Ron murmured. "In all our time together, facing Death Eaters and Voldemort and Merlin-knows-what-else, we have never faced anything like this."

"No we haven't." Harry whispered. His throat was scratchy and dry. He tried licking his lips and swallowing a few times, but it was hard to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"I…ahem." Ron coughed and looked skyward. Harry could see the tears in his friend's eyes.

"It'll be okay Ron."

"Aha." Ron laughed humourlessly. "No it won't. You and I both know that."

"It's not over yet."

"No, not yet. But it will be soon won't it?! It's been weeks Harry. Weeks! When we got taken it was June. We know the end of July came and went because of Cameron and Daniel coming here. It's been weeks since then. Nobody has found us yet and I doubt they will either. There's no way for us to get out either. We are stuck here."

"There's got to be a way Ron. Wollaston will make a mistake. Something will happen. One of us will get quicker recovering from that jellyfish spell and get through the ward before he puts it up…" Harry listed, trying to look at possible options that could help.

"Or we get put into little kids and killed as part of his grand scheme."

"Don't be so defeatist Ron, it won't help. You know that."

"It's hard not to. I know it's only been a few weeks for us but it feels like it's been an eternity." Ron whispered, nearly whimpering come the end of his words. He hung his head and squashed his fingers into his eyes. "I wish…"

"I know Ron. Me too." Harry said, not letting Ron continue that sentence. Oh they could spend hours on wishes.

Ron sniffed and nodded. He rubbed his eyes once more and then stood up straight squaring his shoulders. He pressed his lips together and with steely determination in every millimetre of his expression he stared at Harry. That gaze pierced Harry to his soul.

"If you survive this, tell Hermione and my kids that I love them. You look after my kids, help 'Mione take care of them as if they are your own kids. You make sure they know I loved them, no matter what. Okay? And my family. You let my family know."

"Of course Ron. And if you…"

"I will." Ron sniffed again and it took all of Harry's steel and fortitude to not let his tears form and give into the storm inside of him. Ron licked his lips and wiped his nose messily on his sleeve. "You know mate…you know you are my best friend right? You are my best friend and I love you. You know that right?"

"Yes I know Ron. You are my best friend too." Ron nodded and fell silent again.

Harry felt choked up but wouldn't give in, couldn't give in. It might all be an act but they couldn't be seen to be breaking down in front of the others. Cameron, Mafalda, Winnifred and Honora didn't need to see them break down too. They were the strong ones, Harry especially was the rock. The others came to him and Ron for comfort. They had to be strong and hide their true emotions.

"Hey Ron?" Harry said at last and clamped Ron on the shoulder with his hand. Ron quirked an eyebrow and the side of his mouth enquiringly. Harry swallowed painfully and tried to force the words out. Sentimentality, soppiness…but the truth and the words came from the place soul deep inside of him. "I'm glad that here at the end it's you who is with me."

"Yeah. Wouldn't have it any other way mate. Wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

Wollaston had taken Ron.

Harry fought with every measly bit of energy he had to get through the ward before Wollaston put it back up. He tried with all his might to stop everything, to save Ron and Cameron! He tried! He tried!

But he failed.

Helpless and crying in earnest, determination thrown out of the window, Harry watched as Wollaston conducted his ritual.

Ron's blue eyes stared helplessly at Harry's. They looked calm, Ron looked calm. Bone tired, hopeless, hurting, and sad…but calm. Harry supposed Ron had entered into the same state he himself had entered when walking to meet his death at Voldemort's hands. The patience that came with knowing what was coming. The acceptance.

As Ron's soul was taken his eyes slipped shut. The light in them diminished and then blocked out. The little light floated above Ron's crumpled form then slowly crossed the short distance between Ron and Cameron. Cameron had been the most vocal, somehow screaming and yelling despite the exhaustion caused by the jellyfish spell. There were no words, only inarticulate yells and screams of anger and fear. So much anger. Then as the little light of Cameron's soul floated up the cries fell silent. Cameron's soul floated higher and higher, leaving more than enough distance for Ron's soul to float into the youth's body. As the Ritual ended there the light that was Cameron's soul vanished, like a candle being snuffed out.

Harry couldn't even bare to watch as Cameron's body was lifted and Wollaston carried out his diagnostic spells to make sure everything had worked.

Ron was in Cameron's body.

Ron was now a fully functioning teenager with two sets of memories.

Ron's actual body was little more than a lifeless shell, a vegetable…a dementor victim.

Wollaston forced both Cameron and Ron inside a newly created warded area. Apparently he had designed it as a place to store his triumphs until he could announce his research to the world and give the world proof that it worked.

"Harry?" Cameron called across the large room that evening when Wollaston had left. Harry groaned as he stood up and walked around the warded area to get closer to Cameron.

"Yeah?"

"Will you stay close to me?" Cameron asked.

"Sure." Harry muttered and settled himself as close as he could without touching the ward.

"Thank you."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah just stay close." Cameron whispered. Harry sighed and tried to hold it together.

"Harry?" Harry twisted his head at the little girl's voice and saw Winnifred had crawled over. Behind her was Honora and Mafalda.

"Yeah?"

"You left." Winnifred whimpered and crawled right up to Harry so she could lay down next to him.

"I'm sorry, Cameron wanted some company." Harry explained and Honora nodded even as she encouraged Mafalda to lie down there too.

"We thought we'd come and join you and Cameron. Stay together." Honora explained with a reasonably calm voice. Her underlying emotions were given away with the trembling across her whole body. The Owl Post employee had developed that near constant trembling a while ago but had nearly always managed to keep her emotional distress limited to just the trembling. Honora lay down on the other side of Mafalda sandwiching the girls in between her and Harry. Harry turned so he was laid on his back so he wasn't excluding either the girls and Honora or Ron and Cameron.

Everyone laid quietly for what felt like ages. Mafalda and Winnifred slipped off to sleep quite quickly, drained from yet another day of emotional upheavals, fear and torture. Harry couldn't sleep though. His mind was racing and his eyes itched, feeling incredibly dry. Harry kept resisting the tears though. Even ones for the purpose of moistening his dry eyes Harry pushed down because he knew if he gave in to that then the flood gates would open.

"Harry?" Cameron whispered, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" Harry muttered back, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow to look at Cameron directly. Those dark blue eyes, a different shade to Ron's, stared back at him with tears in them.

"I can't sleep."

"Me either." Harry confessed. "But we need to try."

"Don't patronise me Harry." Cameron growled angrily. "I might be a kid but I'm not! I'm a grown man!"

"Okay, okay I'm sorry." Harry back tracked quickly at the anger that had flared up behind the tears. Cameron's jaw clenched and unclenched for a few moments as the emotions battled away. Anger or tears?

The tears won.

"I…I hate this!" Cameron cried out, tears welling up and falling in rapid succession. "I hate what Wollaston's done to me! I hate it! I know I'm Ron, I know it! I am Ron! But I'm Cameron too! I have memories as Cameron, I have Cameron's body I have…I hate it! I don't know who the hell I am because I've got two people here! It might not be two souls but it's two people!"

"I'm sorry Ron. I'm so sorry!"

"Yeah I am too! Thanks to that arsehole I can never go home! Never! Merlin! Even thinking about where my home is I remember the large stone house in Port William. It has a crap garden but it was right in front of the beach and I'd play Quidditch there with Niall, Dad and Mam and…no!" Cameron wailed plaintively and started sobbing. "Noooo…my Dad and _Mum_ are Arthur and Molly Weasley! How can I think of anybody else as my Mum and Dad? How?! I don't want to forget my family! Not my mum, not my dad, not my _wife_ and Hugo and Rose. I don't want them replaced!"

Cameron descended into angry tears, hitting the ground and raging through the tidal wave of tears.

Harry didn't know what to do. He couldn't comfort Cameron, the ward separated them. There was nothing to say either, certainly not anything that would help. It would be a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

* * *

Rejuvenation - Chapter 5

They had a new addition to their little group.

A few days after Ron and Cameron's ritual and change, Wollaston had come back from work with a large healers bag from which he tugged out the body of a young boy with black hair and striking grey eyes. The unconscious boy had then unknowingly endured a full examination. Harry watched as numerous bright lights settled on the boy's body from the various diagnostic spells. Once that was done the boy was placed into the warded area with Harry, Mafalda, Winnifred and Honora.

It took a while for the boy to reach consciousness again. Immediately, as any young child would, his first words were questions about where he was. Then, upon understanding the answers, he became hysterical. Wollaston had been in the room at the time and, when his demands for silence were not heeded, he proceeded to cast that jellyfish charm. It stopped the hysteria. But only because paralytic nature of the curse, along with the excruciating pain, stopped him from being able to scream.

As always Harry was the first to recover from the jellyfish curse, then Mafalda. Winifred was next along with Honora.

Serpens was last.

"My name is Serpens Black, of the Black Family line." The boy announced with as much pomp and loftiness as Draco Malfoy had all those many years ago. Harry arched his eyebrow.

"Really?" He asked and the stress he put on that word must have insulted Serpens because the boy puffed his chest up and glared defiantly at Harry.

"What's wrong with the Black Family?" The kid yelled. Harry held up his hands in surrender.

"Absolutely nothing! Nothing at all." Serpens continued to glare at him and Harry found himself sighing and expanding on his previous answer. "My godfather was a Black."

"Oh." Serpens deflated like the wind had been taken out of his self-righteous sails. "Who?"

"Sirius Black."

"I know him!" Serpens said and Harry could have groaned. He waited for the slander and insults against Sirius to start, because even though Harry had ensured Sirius' name was cleared he was still infamous for escaping Azkaban and for many other reasons. Serpens surprised him though, "My Grandfather got blasted off the family tree by Great Aunt Walburga because he helped my Uncle Sirius to leave the family."

"Really?" Harry asked sceptically as he tried to think of who had been blasted off the family tree on the wall at Grimmauld Place. He did remember somebody…Sirius had mentioned an uncle at some point helping him.

"Yes! Grandfather said it was the best thing he ever did! Well…or at least that's what Dad says Grandfather said. Grandfather's been dead a long time, I didn't even know him. But I know of him. Dad says we should always know our family history, so we know what to do in hard times and what not to do. Or something like that!"

Harry smiled a little at Serpens' enthusiasm, the name of the Uncle that Sirius had mentioned coming back to him. "Was your Grandfather Alphard?"

"Yes! That's him."

"The family tree didn't show him as having any children from what I remember."

"No." Serpens agreed with a slow and careful intonation of the word. "Dad says Grandfather kept his family a secret from the rest of the Black family. It's because Grandmother was a blood traitor and he didn't want to be disinherited. It happened anyway but that was after Grandfather died and left his inheritance to Grandmother. Dad says that Grandmother said that Great Aunt Walburga was ballistic because she didn't get any money from him. She blasted him off the tree for that! Dad's quite proud of it actually and it was one of Grandmother's favourite stories until she died."

Serpens kept talking about his family and other things well into the night. The little boy was enthusiastic about his family members and was more than happy to just keep talking. Harry wondered if it was a nervous thing because Serpens kept fidgeting and occasionally looked around the room anxiously. It could just have been that the boy was trying to distract himself from the situation; and what better way to do that than to try to immerse yourself in a bubble of happy memories. Harry whole heartedly encouraged the boy, Ron or Cameron goaded him into more stories and Winnifred, Mafalda and Honora played the audience.

* * *

"Hahah! Yes. Finally!" Wollaston cheered and then all but ran over to the work desk and began riffling through items. Harry felt his mouth go dry in dismay as he realised that Wollaston had pulled the salt packet he used for all the other rituals.

"Oh no." Honora whispered, horror etched on her face.

"What? What is it? What's going on?!" Serpens asked with panic in his voice.

Winnifred started crying and curled into a ball hugging her knees close to her chest. Mafalda sat down heavily and when Harry glanced at her he could see the light dying in her eyes. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the tears.

"Harry?" Harry opened his eyes and looked at Ron…Cameron in the containment area near them. Cameron offered a grim smile. No words were really necessary. If it was Harry that was chosen then he would deal with it. If he died, it wasn't like that hadn't been on the card before. If it wasn't him then he would deal with that too. In the meantime he couldn't leave the children to suffer through their dread, their fear and their grief alone.

Harry nodded to Ron and then turned away. He grabbed Honora by the arm as he passed her and pulled her with him. She went like a rag doll just allowing herself to be pulled along. He also grabbed Serpens by the sleeve and dragged him along. The boy protested and struggled but all protests quelled beneath Harry's sharp look. The boy shivered and followed. Harry dragged them over to the two girls and pulled them to sit down with him. Winnifred cuddled into Honora while Harry pulled Mafalda to him and tried his best to comfort her. Serpens looked like he was trying to stay strong on his own but then he twisted so he could bury his face in Harry's neck. Harry felt his neck start to get damp and knew the boy had started to cry. He carefully patted the boy's back hoping to comfort him while all the while stroking Mafalda's hair.

They waited in silence. Together and with each other but in painful, dreadful silence. They could hear Wollaston lay out the salt. They heard him scratch out a few runes. They heard him get the potions organised. Then they heard him rehearsing the words and knew it was time.

"Will it hurt?" Came a whisper. Harry glanced down; which one had asked that?

"Pardon?" He asked and it was Mafalda who lifted her head and stared at him with those silver moss eyes that had dulled and bleached still further.

She opened her mouth and repeated her question in barely more than a whisper that still echoed around their little group. "Will it hurt?"

"Will what hurt? The ritual?" Harry clarified.

"Dying."

Oh. That. Harry thought about how best to answer. But Honora got there first.

"I don't know. I've never died." The woman said and Mafalda slumped. Harry swallowed painfully as Serpens gave a great shuddering whimper and buried his face in Harry's neck more.

Then Harry remembered. He carefully pushed Serpens away and gave the boy a comforting pat on his shoulder just to tide him over. Harry silently begged for the boys patience a moment then he reached out and carefully crooked his finger underneath Mafalda's chin and lifted it up so she could meet his eyes. With absolutely seriousness Harry repeated the words he had once been told.

"It's quicker than falling asleep." He said, clearly and definitely. He left no room for doubt in his eyes or his face. He kept his expression as earnest and as truthful as he could. Mafalda's pale eyes searched his face. They flicked all over searching and looking. Then the girl nodded and slumped a little.

"Then I see mummy and Sigmund?" She asked and Harry smiled tearfully.

"Yes, yes they will." Mafalda nodded again and then slowly lay herself back down so her head was resting on Harry's knee. Harry stroked her hair gently again and invited Serpens back in for another hug.

"Do you see your family when you die?" Winnifred asked.

"I don't know. I think so." Honora answered with as much clarity as a cotton wool bud.

"Yes." He answered without guile. "Yes you do."

"How do you know?" Winnifred asked and Harry couldn't bring himself to lie.

"I died once. It was only for a few minutes."

"What happened?" Winnifred asked with wide hazel eyes.

"I found myself at Kings Cross with my old Headmaster. He was the closest thing to a Grandfather I had ever known."

"King's Cross? The station?" Honora asked with astonishment.

"Yes. Everything was white and it looked like a very clean Kings Cross station to me. My headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, said he didn't recognise the place so I suppose it could have been anywhere really. Anyway, he was waiting for me there. When I died he was waiting for me. Only I didn't stay dead so I had to leave." Harry offered the abridged versions of events.

"Why weren't your mum and dad there?" Honora asked.

"Because as much as I loved my mum and dad, I didn't really know them. It was probably a good thing that Professor Dumbledore was there. He was always talking about the next great adventure happening after death. Maybe he would have shown me which train to take to get to my family." Harry offered, making things up and elaborating truths. "The point is, when you die, somebody will be waiting for you. Somebody you love. Somebody you trust."

"I wonder who I will see." Honora whispered and got a contemplative look on her face. Her comment sparked something in the children though, something remarkably akin to hope. Which was odd really. Being hopeful about who you might meet on the other side when you died. Morbid and depressing, were two words Harry would have used. But then again, after everything they had endured; the stress, torture, neglect, starvation, the dread of waiting for one's death to arrive - was it any wonder that something like that would come as a relief?

"My Grandfather and Grandmother will be waiting for me." Serpens said firmly and looked around at them all. "I just know they will. I'll get to finally meet my Grandfather! And Grandmother will give me one of her hugs and maybe a cookie when I get there!"

"My mummy and Sigmund and Herbert my puffskien." Mafalda mentioned.

"Nobody in my family has died. Nobody will be there for me." Winnifred answered sullenly and Harry felt the mood drop.

"Mafalda's mummy will be waiting for you." He said, trying to sound absolutely certain. "And Isolde will be waiting, and Max, Anabelle, Jimmy, Holly and Eloise."

"And don't forget Daniel!" Honora said quickly and Harry smiled and nodded. Winnifred smiled too looking a little happier.

"And don't forget Nessa and Poppy too!" Mafalda listed some more names Harry hadn't heard until just then. Harry supposed Nessa and Poppy were other victims of Wollaston that Mafalda knew. After all the little girl was with Wollaston long before Harry was.

"Exactly. So we will each have lots of people!" Serpens chirped with his usual enthusiasm.

"What about you Honora?" Winnifred asked.

"I'll have my mum and dad and sister I think. It's been a long time since I've seen them. They died when I was young." Honora announced and the children grinned.

"Then they will definitely be waiting for you!" Winnifred announced.

"Thank you Winnif-"

"Right then! All ready!" Wollaston said and before Harry could even turn around to glance at the man pain shot through his body and sent him slamming to the floor. "Now then, let's see. You! And…you!"

The ground started to fall away…moving further and further away and Harry shut his eyes so he could concentrate on his breathing and try to escape the panic that was rising. Him. Wollaston had chosen him! Harry took a sharp breath and opened his eyes, trying to fight the curse that virtually paralysed him. He turned as best he could while being levitated and searched for the child who was in the ritual with him.

Mafalda.

Mafalda floated just a little way away. The girl looked calm. Her face was relaxed and her eyes stayed locked on his.

"No!" Harry yelled, forcing the word through the paralysis. It was wearing off; either that or Harry's body could just handle curses a lot better than most. He started to struggle, not willing to gracefully accept this. There was the chance he could stop it, if he could get free he might just have enough time to interrupt the salt circle and maybe scrub out one of the runes chalked into the floor. Maybe he could…maybe…

But as strong as he was he couldn't shake off the paralysis completely and once he was enclosed in his own salt circle and lowered to the floor something seemed to hold his body down. He couldn't move under the pressure pinning him to the floor. It was like something was trying to suck him down onto it. He had no hope of moving. He could only roll his head to the side and look at what was happening around him.

Wollaston was pacing, finishing the preparations. The others were watching from their place behind the war. Serpens and Winnifred cuddling into Honora. Cameron was stood making frantic, angry arm gestures and shouting.

And Mafalda just lay there with a relaxed, accepting and patient look. She just lay there. Those silver moss eyes watching him exuding calmness and serenity in a way that was so wrong given the circumstances. How could she be so accepting of it? He wasn't and he had done this before! He had died before!

Maybe that was the problem. He knew with absolute certainty that he would die when he walked into that forest. He knew. He absolutely knew that Voldemort would kill him. But this time there was a huge chance he wouldn't die. What happened to Ron and Cameron could very well happen to him. His soul extracted from him and put into Mafalda's body, while her soul perished.

Somehow Harry found the thought that he might live on far more terrible than the idea of him dying.

Mafalda's expression didn't change though. It didn't. Not at all. She remained absolutely calm and still. Harry wasn't. He felt like a mess, an angry and helpless mess.

"No! Wollaston don't do this! Don't!"

"Shut up! Or do I have to spell you silent?!" Wollaston demanded and cast his absolutely favourite curse at Harry. Harry's world exploded and all his muscles seized in paralysis. Harry hated that box jellyfish curse. Hated it! It was nearly as bad as cruciatus except it held you still to endure the endless, burning pain like a hundred thousand burning hot knives trying to stab into your body. He would learn the name of the curse and put an arrest on it! And maybe a taboo on the incantation. And then anyone who used it would be arrested!

"Animus excipio…" Began Wollaston's stream of Latin words in the chant that would begin the dreaded ritual. Harry's eyes slid closed with despair and tears leaked down his face.

It was starting. Nothing could be done now. He had failed at everything; at protecting everybody, at saving them, at stopping Wollaston. He had failed. There had been no chance of escape, failure was inevitable. But knowing that didn't make accepting defeat easier. He's lost and Wollaston had won. Harry was going to lose everything! His Ginny, his kids…his life…everything.

Icy cold began to creep up on him. Cool just whispering at him at first. Then the temperature dropped again and the chilliness turned into a coldness that seemed to cling to his skin. Frost began to prickle the edges of his skin, like tiny little needles trying to get in.

Harry didn't want to think about that any more than he wanted to think about his defeat, his failure, and what he was going to lose. Harry opened his eyes and looked over to Mafalda. The little girl was laid on her side, a white cloud puffing from her lips because of the cold surrounding them. Her little spring time dress would be no match for the chill. Harry bet that if Mafalda wasn't paralysed by the spell then she would be shivering by now. Especially since the temperature dropped again to frigid levels. The intense cold just made their situation seem worse and seemed to make the ritual feel like it lasted for an eternity. It was like that horrible foreboding you got when a dementor approached, the feeling that something horribly bad was going to happen and that you would never be happy again.

Well they wouldn't be happy again, Harry was sure of it. Not after this ritual that would ruin their lives. Merlin, and he hadn't been able to stop this from happening. He should have! But he hadn't! And now…now they were all going to pay.

He could barely bring himself to look at Mafalda's face and eyes. He expected to see condemnation and blame. He expected her to be looking at him with all the accusations and hatred in the world because he had failed her and now here she was…in a death ritual.

Mafalda _was_ looking at him. But there was no criticism or insults in her eyes. Those shining silver green eyes, were pale and still. The calmness was so perfect that Harry was loath to drop a pebble into the lake, loath to bring the storm that was brewing inside of him anywhere near the girl's tranquillity. But he had to say something. He _had_ to.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The words may have been swallowed up by the noises Wollaston was making. The words might not have actually been as loud as Harry had perceived them to be. They might have even been nothing more than a whisper. He might even have made enough noise to have shouted them. Harry didn't know really, because a roaring was starting in his ears; a sort of rushing that sounded a lot like the smashing of an unsettled sea on jagged rocks.

Mafalda did seem to hear though, or understand the sentiment though.

She smiled.

In the situation they were in, with her facing certain death, with all the horrors she had seen lately…and the little girl smiled.

"Look after me when I fall asleep?" She asked. Her words were quiet but he heard them over the rising tide. Fall asleep…_easier than falling asleep_.

"Of course." He muttered as tears fell from his eyes. One ran over the bridge of his nose then fell off onto the caret instead of running down the other side of his face.

"Mummy and Sigmund are waiting?" She asked just to double check and Harry choked out a bitter laugh but gave her a small reassuring smile.

"Yes, yes they are." He said and the girl smiled more.

"Thank you for looking after me." She said those words like he had welcomed her into his house for a while to play. Like she had just been to a friend's house and was thanking them for having her. She made it sound so simple.

But it wasn't! It wasn't simple! The reality was horrible! _Horrible_! She was going to die, just like the other children had and there was nothing he could do to save her! He hadn't been able to save any of them! None of them at all! It was all his fault!

"I'm so sorry." He said again, pleading with her to accept his words. The noises he could hear were louder now. A lot louder. The roaring nearly filled his hearing up.

"Why?" She asked, frowning.

"For not looking after you better."

"You are the best…" The girl said but the rest of her words were lost. Rushing filled his ears nearly deafening with the intensity and noise of it. Merlin! If Harry had ever been to a beech during a storm…this would be what it would sound like. Wave after wave after wave! It swallowed all other sound. It ate up every other vibration. It drowned his concentration until he could only know the waves and nothing else. There was only that crashing, smashing of water upon a shore. The beating of something fluid smashing against something immovable and solid.

Like something slopping around…beating against the walls of its enclosure.

Like something screaming to get out but couldn't!

Harry choked back a sob. That too was lost in the cacophony of sound but he felt it across his body. His soul was trying to get out. Harry could feel it.

It was time.

Here he was yet again at the close.

Harry didn't want it this time. He didn't want to just stand there and take it like he did last time. He knew he couldn't move but he didn't want to just lie there and take it while Wollaston took his soul. It was his and his alone! And he might have failed everybody but he wasn't just going to give up! He wasn't institutionalised, he hadn't grown used to being held in captivity! He wasn't tamed or a push over! He hadn't had an opportunity to stop any of this happening before but he might be able to now. Now he had an opportunity! He might not succeed, it might not work, it might kill him! But he wasn't going to make Wollaston's job easy! He wasn't going to just roll over and submit! He wouldn't! He hadn't to Voldemort and he wouldn't to some lesser insane being either!

No.

No he wouldn't give in.

The roaring got louder. Impossibly the noise became more deafening that it was before. The echoing thunders resounded in his hearing, deafening him to all else except the all-consuming racket. It ebbed occasionally then came back with a vengeance, louder and more insistent than before.

But Harry wouldn't drop his resolve.

Not even when a ringing started in his ears. Not even when his vision started to blur. Not even when the freezing temperatures made it feel like ice cubes were stabbing their way into his body. He wouldn't even give in when he felt light headed, when his thoughts became floaty and light. He wouldn't give in. He calmed his resolve.

Another noise added to the din he could hear. A near frantic beating, like a drummer beating his drum faster and faster and faster. Faster and faster, growing louder and louder too!

An ache started in his chest, soreness and straining. Harry wondered how he could even feel his body when the noises were so consuming that it ate some of his thoughts too.

Then his throat started to pulse a little. Like it was gasping but not…

Breathing. Harry wasn't breathing. He was holding his breath so he could concentrate more. But he needed to breath now. His body was telling him to breath.

But the noises was riotous! It was so loud it could pierce his ear drums. And he didn't want to give in! He wouldn't accept his soul being taken away from him. He wouldn't!

Harry steeled his resolve as much as he could. He needed a breath or he would fall unconscious and lose the fight anyway. He couldn't afford to do that. He needed to breathe and keep fighting!

Breathe and…

Harry took a huge lungful of air.

Then reflectively, his body expelled the air immediately unable to cope with only that one breath of oxygen and preparing to take more.

Harry once nearly all the air was gone Harry felt ready to take a last breath of air and hold it to help him with his fight.

But sound battered him. It pierced his ears, resounded around his body and deafened his thoughts. He couldn't hear himself think. He couldn't remember what he had been thinking. He couldn't….it was just so loud! So LOUD! It was overwhelming! What was it? What was he thinking? Something to do with air? _Oh good Merlin_, he couldn't think! The crashes and thunderous clamour was too much. What? What was it? Air?

Air?

Breathing! That was it breathing.

He had to take a breath.

Then breathe out and…ooooh the sound got quieter!

Breath in…

And out.

Out.

Out…

Harry felt weightless, soundless, sightless. He had been lying on the floor hadn't he? But he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything. Not even the air. Can you feel air? He couldn't feel the cold. But he had been cold. So very cold.

At least the roaring had stopped. Now there was nothing. Nothing at all. No sound. Not the whisper of fabric across skin. Not the sound of the wind lightly rustling leaves. Not the sound of somebody talking. Nothing. Nobody.

Not even the sound of breathing. Was he breathing?

Was he?

He had been.

But he wasn't. He didn't need to.

He had no chest. No lungs, no throat, no mouth. He didn't need to breathe because he…

He didn't have form. No form.

He couldn't move. There was nothing to move. Nothing.

Everything was gone. Absolutely gone.

He didn't feel panicked. Not really. But he didn't feel calm either. It was like…like something in between. It was strange. Harry just…was. He was just there, in the nothingness.

Being in the nothingness was like…was like…Harry didn't really know. Nothing had felt like it before. It felt like he had been there forever and at the same time only been there a few seconds. There was no concept of time and nothing to tell the passing of time with. Harry tried to count it out but how long was a second? One hippopotamus, two hippopotam…but how did he know he was thinking that as a proper amount of time. Harry didn't know. He didn't really need to know he supposed.

There was nothing to worry you in the nothingness. No worries, no cares, no pains, no loves, no hates, no wishes…No nothing.

It was just nothing.

But Harry could remember, he could remember what he had cared about. He had cared a great deal about a great many things and about a great many people.

But it didn't matter now. Nothing did. All that existed was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Until something gave him a shove.

Harry stumbled. How, he didn't know because he had no form so he hadn't been standing. Nevertheless he felt something push him. What though?!

It happened again. Harry tried to look around and see but he couldn't see anything and there was nothing to turn.

Again.

Again and again and again whatever it was pushed him.

Harry would have frowned if he could have. What was pushing him?! What was forcing him to…?

Harry remembered. Wollaston. Wollaston the crazy healer who messed with people's souls and murdered people. He was trying to force Harry to…well Harry wasn't going to let him. Not even when Harry was in the nothingness and Wollaston was somewhere else! Harry wouldn't let Wollaston control him! Or he'd at least make it very, _very_, hard for the insane healer to do so.

Harry struggled. He shook off the uncaring calm and tranquil state he'd fallen into and embraced all his anger, his passion and his absolute determination with as much strength as he could. When that invisible force pushed him Harry pushed back.

The force pulled away abruptly, as if shocked. Then it came back with a vengeance and Harry had to struggle harder. It was like tug of war only the other way around; pushing instead of pulling. Like…like wrestling! Like wrestling each trying to tackle the other and wrestle them into compliance or submitting.

It was like those two beads on the string between his and Voldemort's wands. Harry knew if the bead went inside his wand it would be over…but if he could get it into Voldemort's wand…well.

But where was he supposed to be going? What was he supposed to be going to? Not a wand surely! He wasn't magic. He was a person. So where was he being pushed to? Even in the nothingness where there was nothing he was being pushed towards _something_. What? What was it?

What?

No. That was the wrong question.

Not what.

Who? Who was he being pushed towards?

Somebody…it was…

Mafalda!

He was being pushed towards Mafalda! No! No he wouldn't go! He wasn't going to help some insane old quack kill of that little girl then imprison Harry within her. No way! No! Not a chance!

Harry pushed back harder. He pushed and he fought. He wasn't going to lose! He wasn't! He wasn't.

Push, push, push, push, push…

It never ended. Just like that horrible rushing sound that Harry had head before! That must have been when Wollaston was pulling his soul out of his body. That's why the sound was there! And now he was pushing! Pushing and pushing and pushing! Harry wouldn't give up this time though. He might have lost against the roaring before but he wouldn't lose against the pushing.

Push, push, push…

Harry pushed back as hard as he could. He didn't know if he was gaining any ground but he fought. He fought like crazy.

Push, push, push, push, yank, yank, yank, yank, yank!

It felt like he was winning. The force was still trying hard but it felt like Harry was winning. If felt like it…

Shhhhh…..

What?

Shhhhhhhhh…

Harry tried to listen. He could hear a noise. Hear? Hearing? He wasn't deaf anymore?

SSSSSHHHHHHH….

That noise…he'd heard that noise before…that was.

SSSSHHHH SHHHHH SHHHHH…..

That was like waves onto sand….like waves onto _rocks_! That was the sound he had heard earlier when Wollaston had tried to steal his soul away from his body!

That must mean he was winning! He was going back on himself! He was winning! The force tried to yank him again. Harry shoved hard trying to get closer to the source of the hissing, crashing wave noises. Trying to get louder to it! Trying with all his might.

Harry threw himself against the force and then fell down.

And down and down and down.

The crashing of waves grew louder until it was a devastatingly loud thunderous roar of water smashing against anything and everything in his way. It was like the noise of water from a gigantic waterfall into its drop pool below. The roar and slamming of water against stone.

It was deafening!

But Harry could hear. He could hear. There wasn't that deafness like in the nothingness. There was _something_; there was sound!

And then there was light!

The clamouring of water, the impatient rush of it as it moved against something still, began to lessen. The volume decreased. And as it left some light began shining. Harry could see it. That meant he had eyes. _Eyes_! He could hear and he could see and…

And he could feel. He could feel the cold, he could feel the ground, he could feel the brush of his clothes against his skin. He could feel the socks on his feet that always refused to stay up. He could feel the shoes over the tops of them, his broken shoes that needed repairing badly but there was never time. He could feel his hair tickling his neck and his elbows. He could feel one of his arms getting squashed by his ribs from where he was lying on it.

He could feel his breathing. HE could hear it too now, the noise of the rushing water receding to just the slightest of slopping noises. Thank Merlin that was over. Harry didn't like water much. He liked the wind in the trees as he ran through them trying not to be seen by mummy because she was all muddy again. He liked the wind in his ears as he streaked through the air on his broom, and like the time he rode Buckbeak the Hippogryff, and those Thestrals and Claudia the Abraxan.

The noise was barely there at all now. He couldn't even hear it slopping around anymore, which was great. It meant everything was finally at an end.

Even the nothingness that hadn't been so bad was at an end. Harry was glad it was over. He didn't like nothingness really, it was boring. He'd much rather be doing things. Keeping busy. Running around, cleaning up, helping out, casting spells, having duels, _anything_. Anything was better than doing nothing. Doing nothing was for when you were ill.

Harry blinked, the light beginning to bother his eyes. They felt dry. But as he blinked them he felt the movement disturb his forehead and pain shot through it. Oh ow! Owie owie owie! Headache! He had a headache! It hurt!

Harry moaned and reached his hands up to hold his head. Owwwwwwww!

"Ah finally! You are more trouble than you are worth you wretched….grrr never mind. It's done now. Although I had half a mind to cast you out rather than continuing!"

Huh? What? Ohh owwwwww!

"Get up! Up I say!" Hands gripped Harry and he found himself being yanked upright hard.

"OOOWWW!" He cried as it sent more pain through his head. He blinked to try to see what on earth was going on.

And there, right in front of him, was Wollaston.

Harry just reacted.

"Murderer!" He screamed and threw his head forwards with all his might. There was a satisfying crack but Harry wasn't sure whether it was Wollaston's nose or Harry's head because the pain trebled inside his head.

The hands holding him up dropped away and a bellow sounded through the air followed by a howl of pain, an angry curse and then a hard and heavy blow to Harry's stomach.

Harry curled up trying to protect himself from the blow. Another one came anyway, whacking him in the shins and then one more to his head. Blackness swam in his vision instantly along with blue and silver spots of changing colour. He felt sick, he felt hurt, he felt hot and he felt weird…really weird.

He didn't like it. The weird feeling was scary.

It was fainting…it was losing consciousness.

Harry didn't care, it was scary. He wanted it all to go away! All of it.

"You! You are lucky I need you alive as evidence of my success otherwise you can be _damned_ sure I would kill you on the spot you vicious little animal!" Wollaston growled and large hands grabbed Harry again.

Harry wanted to fight against the grip but he was weak. The most he managed was a weak kick that hit the man somewhere and had him grunt in pain then more pain exploded across Harry's cheek.

"You little ingrate!" Wollaston snarled and Harry felt himself be thrown against something wooden and angular.

Harry had to fight hard to direct his gaze to it only to find it was a chair and that, the next second, he was tied to it with magical ropes. Harry flicked his eyes to Wollaston who was, oddly, a lot taller than Harry remembered. He was still a bastard though! An absolute, conniving, horrible, mean old man with fuzzy hair and yucky teeth.

"Open up so I can get my answers then I'll put you back in your cage where you belong!" Wollaston said and fingers gripped the sides of Harry's jaw. Harry saw the man held the little bottle of veritaserum in his other hand. Angrily Harry turned his head and tried to bite at Wollaston's fingers. He caught one too and bit down hard.

It earned him another slap across the face.

"ANIMAL! I should put you down where you stand for being a wild beast!"

"And when my aurors catch you they're going to lock you up in the deepest cell in Azkaban for being a murderous, insane old bat!" Harry yelled back, his voice oddly high pitched with his anger and feeling.

Wollaston got a glint in his narrowed sparkly eyes. He stared at Harry and part of Harry wanted to squirm while the other half wanted to glare back. Harry glared back.

"I will not get arrested you blathering idiot! I will be praised and immortalised for my additions to magical medicine and my cure for growing older will put me down in the history books!"

"No it won't. You'll get locked up because you are insane and then people will come in and burn all your research up because it's too abhorrent to exist. They will destroy everything! And you will go to Azkaban with all the other bad men!"

Wollaston's sparkly eyes got even more sparkly. Harry didn't like it one little bit. It wasn't like Albus Dumbledore's sparkle. Professor Dumbledore was a brilliant man who did the best he could for everyone and the sparkle in his eyes was because he was so chirpy all the time and so knowledgeable. Wollaston's sparkle wasn't like that…it wasn't nice. Wollaston wasn't a very nice man.

"Oh really. It's where all the bad men go is it?" Wollaston sneered, the sneer looking worse with the river of blood running down his chin and neck from his obviously broken nose. "Then tell me, do you know where bad little girl's go?! They go back in their cages!"

Harry was thrown backwards, chair and all. He screamed, he knew he did. The chair, completely out of his control, was flung backwards and he was going to hit something! IT was like the time he fell off his broom! Like when he fell backwards out of his treehouse! Daddy had needed to put a cushioning charm on the ground so if it happened again Harry wouldn't break his ribs! It was like being hit with Expelliarmus during duelling and flying back hard into the wall! The slam was hard enough to wind you and make you understand you never, _ever_, wanted to get caught by it again.

The impact happened. The bottom of the chair hit something first, then fell backwards and Harry hit his back. But the chair bounced and Harry was hit again, then just had to put up with the friction burn down his arms from where the ground rubbed him as he skidded.

Just as, winded, hurt and disorientated, Harry and his chair came to a halt, and then they hit something that had them flying forwards again. The wind told many warnings as it swept through Harry's hair and as the ground came up to meet Harry directly in the face Harry could just close his eyes and wait for the impact to happen.

* * *

"Bloody hell that was absolutely amazing!" Ron cried for the umpteenth time in only a few short minutes. Harry spared his friend barely more than a glare because his head and face hurt so much that he couldn't' configure his facial expression much more than that. Ron didn't seem to care though, just burst into laughter. "Oh you should have seen the look on Wollaston's face when you broke his nose! Oooh oh but the best was when you bit his fingers! I swear I thought his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets! It was bloody brilliant!"

"Yes Ron." Harry said wearily.

"Ron please stop talking. Winnifred and Serpens have only just fallen asleep and I don't want them to wake up!" Honora pleaded. Harry spared the woman a small glance. She had a soft and caring look on her face even as she reprimanded Ron. Ron at least looked a little bashful at the reprimand and stopped talking. Honora nodded and looked at Harry. "How are you feeling now?"

"Sore. Very sore." Harry hedged.

"Hmm." Honora hummed, accepting Harry's refusal to give a more detailed account of his health.

"It's weird isn't it? To be in these bodies instead of our own." Ron offered and Harry shut his eyes as if that would be enough to shut away the world.

"Yes, thank you Ron. I didn't exactly need reminding!"

"Yeah well it's not like you can ignore it either! Seriously mate, pretending it didn't happen won't change a bloody thing! Believe me, I know! I've been stuck in Cameron's body for way longer than you've been in Mafalda's."

And there was the crux of the matter.

For all that Harry had fought, for all that he had tried to stop Wollaston, he had lost. Wollaston had successfully transferred Harry's soul into Mafalda's body and let Mafalda's soul just blink out of existence.

Now Harry was in an eleven year old _girl's_ malnutrition, half starved, badly beaten up body, with all of the girl's memories and more painful wounds than a poor little child should ever receive at the hands of another being. Harry, in less than five minutes, of being in Mafalda's body, had successfully managed to cut open the girl's head, create a large egg-like swelling there, bruised cheeks with swelling closing up her eyes, cuts to the insides of her cheeks where being slapped had caused the skin to break when it sliced over her teeth. There was also the internal bruising from when Wollaston kicked her, the fractured ribs if Harry could judge by the amount of pain he was in, the other dark and painfully deep bruises from the beating, then there was the bumps, bruises and not to mention friction burns. And all that was before Wollaston had caused her to rebound off the back of the containment ward and land on her head which had not only caused another most terrific bump and cut, if Ron's murmuring's of awe were anything to go by, but also a bad concussion.

Harry was not happy.

But then to top it off was the memories. He could remember everything Mafalda had experienced in her life. And it wasn't even like accessing a strange set of memories, like stepping into a pensieve. Harry could remember the memories and what he felt at the time and thought at the time and…and it wasn't like they were Mafalda's memories at all. They were Harry's. They were Harry's memories. They were his…only they had been hers when they were made. Harry remembered them as her.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

He had failed Mafalda. He had failed to protect her and now this. He knew she didn't blame him, knew that actually Mafalda loved him like she loved her uncles and aunts and adult friends who worked on the farm at home. He knew Mafalda didn't think of it as failure on Harry's part. But Harry saw it as failure and it hurt!

It hurt his heart.

And his head hurt, and his chest hurt, and his tummy, and arms and back and…Ow! Everything hurt so much! He wanted his daddy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

* * *

Rejuvenation - Chapter 6

Harry cuddled close to Cameron and Winnifred for warmth. It might have been summertime and the room might have been hot and sticky but Harry was cold. Very cold.

He knew that it was his fever from the infection in his cuts and from his injuries but he was _cold_. He was cold and they were warm. And the benefit of being the smallest was that he could wiggle up against them more easily.

Honora was gone now…she was inside Winnifred's body. The ritual had gone off without a hitch only last week, four days after Harry's own ritual. Ron had delivered a running commentary throughout telling Harry how much his ritual was different to Honora's.

Apparently when Harry's soul had been halfway across the circle it started to go backwards, back towards Harry's body. Wollaston had chanted harder, standing behind Harry's soul to block the way only that made Harry's soul struggle more. Ron said that after a while Wollaston moved around Harry so that while Harry's soul was busty fighting Wollaston it was also getting closer to Mafalda's body then at the last minute Wollaston stepped away. Harry supposed that made sense. In all honesty he didn't remember what happened. Things were a little blurry.

"Get the bloody hell off! It's too hot to be cuddling." Ron muttered and rolled over away from Harry with a huff and a grumbled. Harry shivered and tried to cuddle closer to Winnifred who grumbled too but put her arm around Harry.

"You okay? You're burning up." Winnifred whispered, blinking a little trying to wake up properly. "You're hotter than last night. Loads hotter!"

"No I'm cold." Harry mumbled. The words felt too big for his mouth. His lips felt dry and uncooperative. His tongue felt heavy.

Winnifred sat up and frowned concernedly. "Hey Ron! Ron, get me some water please?"

"Get it yourself! I'm sleeping!" Ron grumbled back, all the anger and woe-is-me that being a teenager afforded you. Poor Ron. It must suck to be an angry teen again. Especially since Cameron was already an angry teen.

"Fine I'll get it myself!" Winnifred sniped back and pushed herself crossly up to her feet. She stomped over to the water bucket and, with as much noise as possible. She lifted it up and brought it back over to Harry.

"SHUT UP!" Ron screamed when she set it down making sure to bump it a few times just to make extra noise. Harry wondered if either of them realised that with every noise Harry flinched. Merlin but his head hurt.

"Don't shout you'll wake…"

"What's going on?" Came the quiet voice of Serpens who was the only one behind the other ward now. They boy had been on his own in the large warded area for over a week, ever since Winnifred had been put inside the little warded area with Harry and Ron.

"Too late." Winnifred sighed then turned to look at Serpens over her shoulder. "Don't worry Serpens, nothing's happening. I'm just getting some water for…"

"And being bloody noisy about it too!" Ron interrupted, casting a very angry glare over at them. Harry sighed and tried to sit up to reach the water himself wince Winnifred and Ron started sniping at each other and conveniently forgetting about the water.

Wincing and grimacing in pain Harry did manage to move. His head was _killing_ him and he really didn't want to drink, he only wanted to sleep somewhere warm…but the logical adult side of his brain told him that he needed to stay hydrated otherwise his fever would get even worse.

Ron and Winnifred sniped and griped at each other. Serpens even joined in a little with jabbing insults.

It was a great start to the day.

Harry took a few more tiny sips of the water then lay back down. Somehow, despite the noise and arguments, sleep came quickly.

* * *

"Harry! Harry wake up! Wake up it's just a nightmare! Wake up!"

The words jolted Harry from the awful dream he was trapped in and made him wake with a start. He shot up and desperately looked around. The adrenaline coursing through his veins helped keep him upright even when the agonising pain in his head hammered at him once more.

"Where is it?! Where?!" Harry asked frantically, he reached out and grabbed Winnifred's sleeve shaking it.

"Where's what?"

"My wand! I need my wand! Voldemort took it and I need it back or I won't be able to arrest Pettigrew and…"

"Mate, Pettigrew's dead. Remember? Died in Azkaban?" Ron muttered. Harry didn't understand. Pettigrew died? Died? As in…as in dead…dead as a dodo…or rat.

Of course he had died.

Harry sighed. Voldemort was dead too. It was the dream. The dream and the fever. He hated being ill. He didn't like the dreams. He always had bad dreams when he was ill. Daddy always gave him a potion that helped and a potion to make him feel better but Daddy was there and…and he was Harry Potter! Harry's Potter had never been looked after by his dad because his dad was dead…no…his dad was probably working.

Damn it. Harry shook his head trying to clear it but that made the pain sharped, more intense and more focus grabbing.

"Here. Do you want some water?" Winnifred asked. Harry groaned but nodded, barely. Winnifred seemed to understand anyway because she pulled the water bucket over and helped Harry drink a bit. "Better?"

"Yes. Lots. Thanks." Harry mumbled.

"You're welcome. I wish I could do more."

"Daddy always gives me a potion and…" Harry started to say then frowned at himself. He huffed and lay back down. "I don't have a dad."

"No, but you remember one don't you? I'm an orphan too but I remember my parents now…well, Winnifred's parents."

Harry frowned. What? That made no sense! How could she not have parents and have parents? And why was she talking about herself using her name? That was odd.

"Huh? You are Winnifred."

"No I'm not I'm Honora."

Harry laughed and shook his head then groaned at the pain.

"No you're not you're Winnifred. Honora's over there somewhere with Harry and Ron and Eloise and…" Harry listed and trailed off as Winnifred sighed and placed her hand on Harry's head.

"Shh, don't worry about it. Just rest up a bit yeah? Maybe if you sleep you will feel better."

Harry nodded. Sleep sounded good.

"Keep the badies away?" He asked. Winnifred nodded.

"Of course."

* * *

Harry woke up to shouting. It wasn't exactly abnormal in and of itself. What was abnormal was that it was two people yelling exactly the same thing.

"Monster!"

"Bastard!"

"Leave him alone!"

"Let go of him!"

Let go of who? Harry blinked and pushed himself up. And where was he? What was going on? Where was Gretchen, Sigmund, Mummy and Daddy? And why was there a bucket and…

Oh.

Harry rubbed his head, wincing as he touched the bumps on his head that still hadn't healed. He was willing to bet he still had concussion too. Could it last a week? Well whatever was wrong with him, fever or what, it was mixing up his memories and making it hard to think straight.

Harry blinked and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The shouting was still going on along with stomping and angry screams…and fear filled screams of a little boy.

Harry spun around. Winced. Then winced again as he saw Wollaston had Serpens in the ritual circle. Harry pushed himself up to his feet and went to stand between the screaming and yelling Winnifred and Cameron.

"Let me go! Help! HELP! HELP!"

"Let him go you bastard!" Cameron, Ron, was screaming.

Harry opened his mouth to shout too but he coughed instead and his head spun. He couldn't shout. Speaking was going to be a problem. But he had to try because he didn't want to not try anything for poor Serpens. Poor Serpens who was about to get taken over by Wollaston's soul.

"Stop it!" Harry managed then grimaced as his throat tightened around his words. He coughed again but that set off a lot of pain in his ribs and stomach.

"LET HIM GO!"

Wollaston ignored them. He stood in his own circle then cast a stunning spell at Serpens which had the boy falling down completely unconscious. Wollaston had done the same thing for Winnifred and Honora to make sure they wouldn't fight what happened like Harry had. He had also condensed the chant down to something that could, if there were no interruptions, be done in one long spell which then did as intended once all the words were finished with. That was how he was now able to transfer his soul into Serpens' body. Or at least it was something like that, Harry didn't remember very much. He hadn't been well at the time.

Wollaston lay down in his circle and began the chant. The long stream of Latin flowed easily, practised, from the old man's lips and even from the room away Harry felt the cold start to creep in. It was cold already…why did it have to get colder. Harry shivered.

Wollaston finished the chant and the cold reached frigid temperatures. Harry could see Wollaston and Serpens' breath rising from their bodies in puffs of white. Some small patches of the carpet glistened with spidery icicles that began to form on them. Serpens' body shivered.

Then the white souls began to rise from the bodies. Wollaston's body falling still.

"Merlin DAMN IT!" Ron yelled and spun around angrily kicking the bucket of water so it went flying off to the other side of the room and whacked into the wall. "Fuck! Shit! Merlin's saggy fucking testicles!"

Ron kicked the empty plate they had been given food on. It spun and slid across the floor bashing into the sofa then sliding underneath it.

Underneath it. Harry would bet that sofa was nice and soft. It looked soft. It looked just like a bed.

"Ron! Stop kicking everything! What are we going to eat off now?! What are we going to drink?! I know you are cross but did you have to…"

"Did I have to kick it?! Yes. YES I BLOODY WELL DID AND…"

Harry stepped over to the sofa. Oh he could just lie down. He was so tired. He hadn't laid on anything softer than carpeted floor since he had been captured. He just wanted to sink his body down onto those soft luxurious pieces of furniture.

Harry reached out and ran his hand over the fabric. Oh it was just as soft as the one at home. Just as soft. Mummy used to sit at the end of the sofa and Gretchen would sit in front having her hair brushed. She would sit next to mummy usually playing, sometimes reading. Once she had even helped mummy do some sewing but it was too boring for her and…

And oh those cushions looked wonderful. Harry picked one up. Why hadn't he had the cushion before? He missed cushions. He…

He was past the ward.

He was past the ward!

Harry looked back, shaking off the fever induced confusion as best he could. The warded area had been behind him. It stopped them from getting to the furniture. But he was at the furniture. That meant the ward was down. That meant…

"RON!" Harry screamed. Somehow it broke through Ron and Winnifred's argument and their heads turned to Harry. Harry saw the moment understanding dawned through both of them. Ron's eyes widened, Winnifred's mouth dropped open. Harry flicked his eyes back to Ron and then turned and ran.

He pushed his mind to work past the fever, past the illness, past whatever pains plagued him. He ran. His short, little and thin legs burned but he made them work. He sprinted across the room to the ritual circle and scuffed his shoes across the line. The light from Wollaston hadn't even made it partway across the circle yet. Serpens' light was slowly floating higher and higher.

"How do we stop it?! How do we stop it?"

"I dunno! I dunno we…" Harry said and ran over to Wollaston's wand. He picked it up quickly. The others were with Serpens.

"Do we move Serpens?" Winnifred asked and hooked an arm under Serpens' arm.

"No! No! Don't move Serpens! We might lose his soul." Ron ordered.

"What then?!"

"Move Wollaston! Move him because it doesn't matter if his soul can't find its way back." Ron instructed and ran over to Wollaston. "And break Wollaston's circle!"

Harry moved to help him. Weak though he was he managed to help Cameron push the body past the edge of the salt circle interrupting the salt lines as they went.

"Good okay…what about the runes?!"

"Serpens' soul is still going up." Winifred observed and Harry snapped his head to look over. "And Wollaston's is still coming closer! Should I move Serpens yet?!"

"No! No! Just…let me try something!" Harry said and ran to the centre of the circle standing in front of Wollaston's soul. The bead of light came closer towards him, closer and closer then tried to go around him. Harry dodged to block the way. The soul tried again but Harry blocked.

"Good thinking!" Ron called.

"Yeah but what now?" Harry yelled and stepped again to block the soul.

"Um…I'll ruin the runes!" Ron offered and leaped over to start scuffing out the runes with his feet. One rune went then the next one. The soul kept trying to go around Harry.

"Oh Merlin what now?! What?!"

"I dunno! I dunno!" Ron yelled. "We don't know enough about the bloody ritual to know how to make it go in reverse!"

"But! But we can't just leave Serpens!"

"What do we know about the ritual?" Harry asked, blocking again and wishing more than anything he could bat the soul away. Run it off.

"It's…it works like a dementor's kiss. It extracts the souls. It creates the cold. Then it puts one soul into the other's body." Ron said.

"Okay then. So dementors…patronus?" Harry asked and brandished the wand.

"I don't know…there aren't any dementor's here."

"No but there's a soul. The patronus at the very least protects souls doesn't it?" Harry asked and brandished the wand in his hand. Ron bit his lip. Cameron's plump lip was squashed between dirty teeth that hadn't been brushed in months because there weren't any brushes.

"It's worth a go. Anything is." The teenager muttered angrily and made a slashing gesture to the soul before Harry. Harry scowled at it and took a few steps backwards.

"Okay. Okay then. Happy thoughts." Harry muttered and tried to focus on his happiest memories. Only the happiest. Flying on his broom for the first time. Seeing his parents. Playing in the gardens. Being allowed to fly on Claudia for the first time! Seeing Claudia have a foul. Seeing James being born. Seeing Albus. Seeing Lily. "Expecto patronum!"

A brilliant white light spilled from the borrowed wand and out into a funnel shaped shield. No corporal patronus. No stag. Nothing but a shield.

Had Harry not thought of happy enough memories? Maybe not but they were happy ones! They were the happiest he could remember, even with the extra memories. So why didn't it work? Maybe…maybe because those memories were happy but Harry wasn't? Maybe even though the memories were happy ones they didn't stir up the same emotion in Harry now…they were almost bitter memories because some didn't seem real and some only filled him with regret and grief of a life long past.

"It's working! It's working!" Winnifred cried and pointed to Wollaston's soul that was floating backwards now away from the shield. Backwards back to Wollaston's body.

"Great so that means he's going to wake up!"

"It doesn't matter. We have his wand and Serpens didn't get…oh look! Serpens' soul is coming back down. It's coming back!" Winnifred slapped her hands to her cheeks, holding onto them as tears spilled over her eyes. She didn't take her eyes off Serpens for a moment, just watching the soul go further and further down. "It's nearly there!"

"Hey mate, slow down with battling Wollaston's soul back yeah? Maybe just leave it alone now and hope it disappears too." Cameron said with anger hacking at the harsh consonants.

Really? Ron had really said that? "What?! You can't be serious!"

"Oh yes I can. Deadly serious!"

"I can't just let him die! He has to pay for his crimes!" Harry argued. Cameron shrugged.

"The way I see it this would be the perfect punishment for the things he's done, the rotten murdering bastard!"

"I'm not going to play judge, jury and executioner just because we all hate him!" Harry protested still shocked that such a furious, cold-hearted, unethical thing like that had passed Ron's lips. New body or not, teenage hormones or not, hatred and fury or not, it wasn't a very Ron thing to say. Perhaps the stress of everything had gotten to him. Along with the confusion of being in a very unfamiliar body of a young developing teen. Cameron had always been angry, swearing and cursing and ranting about things. Combine that with the extra hormones and Ron's hot temper perhaps it just made for a very unstable concoction.

"Why not? He played executioner to us!"

"Yeah but we are better than him!"

"Yeah! We won't stoop to his level!" Winnifred said and Ron scowled and sneered at her, the look marring Cameron's pretty face.

"Fine then! Let's let the bastard live! Who knows?! Perhaps the Wizengamot will make him suffer before he dies! I'd certainly like to see his reaction when he hears he's going to get life imprisonment inside Azkaban! Let him go back into his body! See if I care!"

Harry huffed and turned his attention back to the soul floating in front of his patronus shield. He paced forwards carefully, the soul reacting by backing up further and then further. Harry sighed and made those final steps towards Wollaston's body. Was he doing the right thing? Was it worse to put Wollaston's soul back in his body or let it go?

Harry wasn't entirely convinced. Not entirely.

The prospect of knowing Wollaston could never harm anyone ever again was almost too great.

But Harry was an auror. First and foremost. And he wanted Wollaston arrested, put on trial and found guilty. He wanted Wollaston's name dishonoured and wanted him locked up for the rest of his life so he couldn't hurt anybody ever again and so that he knew, with absolute certainty, that he was abhorred for his cruel experiments.

"Aaaah!" Serpens gasped behind him and then started to cry. Harry kept his concentration and stepped forwards once more, making the soul of the healer sink back inside the man's body.

Quick as a flash those blue eyes opened and the man shot up into a sitting position his eyes narrowing on Harry.

Just as quickly Harry fired off a stupefy, a body bind _and_ the rope curse to tie the man up.

"Well done." Cameron muttered. Harry glanced over his shoulder to the others. Cameron was stood to one side, scuffing out the remainder of the runes with one foot. Winnifred was hugging the still crying Serpens tightly, Serpens clinging onto her and weeping with all his fear and grief.

Harry glanced around the room feeling rather at a loss. What did they need to do now? They had stopped the ritual, they had saved Serpens and Wollaston was incarcerated as best as he could be when Harry didn't have any cells or any warded areas. What now?

They needed to escape, that was what. The question was how. "What now? How do we get out of here? We are in children's bodies again, we can't exactly apparate."

"No we can't. I don't know." Cameron muttered then glanced around the room. "What about looking out the window, we could see where we are and maybe find a door."

"Sure." Harry nodded and began crossing to the windows, fist clenching on the wand. Harry paused. Wand. Only one wand. Wollaston's wand. "Accio Harry Potter's wand!"

There was a rattling, then the sliding of wood against wood, then a whistling. Harry turned just in time to catch his most precious possession just before it smacked him in the face. He held it up and inspected it. It still looked as it had all that time ago. Still in need of a polish, same little groves, same patterns in the wood and same fingerprints on the handle. Definitely his wand. And because his wand could get out…

"Accio Ron Weasley's wand! Accio Cameron Wood's wand! Accio Honora Sloper's wand! Accio Serpens Black's wand!" Harry reeled off as many names as he could remember. Serpens didn't have a wand, neither did Winnifred because they were too young yet. Harry didn't even bother summoning Mafalda's wand because he knew she didn't have one, she was too young. A couple of wands didn't respond, Harry supposed it was because the magic in them died when their owners had. Some did respond because their owners were only newly dead. Some, when they turned up, looked dull and lifeless and Harry knew just from looking at them that they were useless wooden shells, useless to anything now.

But in the meantime there were enough working wands for two each for him, Ron and Winnifred. Serpens got one wand.

Armed and ready just in case, they checked out the room. There was a door, locked of course, but all the windows were open. They were in the countryside. And from every window they looked out of they could only see fields. Acres upon acres of fields. No other houses, no cottages, no roads, no vehicles. Nothing. Just empty fields.

"Let's try and unlock the doors then hm?" Cameron said and marched purposefully over to the doors.

Then Cameron was flying backwards through the air nearly hitting Harry. Harry only just dodged letting Cameron hit the floor instead of him.

"Oooff! What the bloody buggering _fuck_ was that?!"

"Mind your language!" Winnifred scolded for the Merlin-only-knew how many times.

"Oh don't you bloody start." Ron grumbled and sat up. "What the hell was that?"

"Umm…" Harry hummed and stepped forwards reaching one hand out in front of him. Nothing for a moment. Another step forwards and still nothing. One more step and…

Harry was thrown backwards colliding with the floor with impressive force and sending Harry into a world of pain his thoughts short circuited for a moment. With black swimming on the edges of his vision Harry fought desperately to stay conscious. It hurt so much though! So much!

"Owie…" Harry moaned then sniffled. Tears welled up in his eyes and he could feel his lower lip tremble. He tried hard to stem the flow of tears and to control his quivering chin but…but everything hurt and when she hurt she cried till mummy or daddy made it better.

Harry wiped his eyes on the sleeve of the once purple dress he was wearing. It was half brown with muck and grime because they hadn't been able to wash the clothes very well during their time in the wards. As Harry wiped his face with the sleeve he realised how grotty the material was because it felt like sandpaper against his skin. He grabbed up the hem of his dress instead and used that. He hoped if he got rid of enough tears he could get the crying thing under control. He wasn't a baby!

"You alright?" Ron asked gruffly. Harry gave him a stiff nod and shakily, painfully, pushed himself to sit up. Merlin but that hurt! Hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt! "Hurts like a dickens doesn't it?"

"Yeah." Harry muttered in agreement and rubbed his stomach. It was hot and hurt and his head was killing him. He just wanted to lie back down and go to sleep but they had to escape. He could be ill and get healed and feel better and _cry_ later. Now was not the time. They needed to escape.

"Right well. It looks like the windows are our only option right now." Came the useful snarky observation from Cameron.

"We could climb through them!" Winnifred chirped.

"And go where exactly? And how would we get to Merlin knows where? Walking? How would we take Wollaston? Float him behind us? Oh yes what a great idea. Let's all give away magic to the muggles and break the secrecy act all the while putting ourselves at danger to the elements and Wollaston who could wake up any minute and…"

"Stop being so dramatic all the time! What _elements_ are you talking about? It's summer, in case you haven't noticed. Wollaston's tied up. We can't be that far from another house because even muggle houses aren't too far from each other. And if we floated him low behind us then we could make it appear like we are dragging him along and-what's that?!"

Winnifred's counter argument had started off reasonably well. She managed an infuriated but calm voice, speaking through gritted teeth, then seemed to really get her teeth into her argument. Then when her voice switched to incredible alarm in the middle of a sentence her tone spoke right to Harry's adrenaline.

"What's what?!" Harry demanded and snapped his gaze to where Winnifred was frightenedly pointing out of one of the windows. Harry felt fear grip him even as more adrenaline pumped through his veins giving him not only the strength to stand but also enough to counter the incredible pain that was coursing through his body.

There was a shape, an odd V shape flying right towards them. It was headed straight at the window and getting to it with incredible speed.

"It's…" Cameron began then paused and squinted a little as if needing clarity. "It's an owl?"

"An owl?" Harry echoed. An owl? Really? Well that was…good.

"An owl?! QUICK! Let it in! We could send a letter for help!"

"Genius except we don't know where 'here' is!" Cameron spat but went over to the window being careful about where to step so the wards for their old containment areas didn't react and throw Cameron back across the room. Carefully, slowly, Cameron made it to the window and threw it open. Harry waited and watched, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away and returning him to an ever increasing world of agony.

The owl, a little brown owl, flew swiftly towards them, swooping down through the window and then landing effortlessly on the little coffee table in front of Harry. It looked at Harry with those impossibly round eyes then hooted and held out its leg. Onto it was an envelope that was scrolled up. Harry reached carefully and reluctantly out to the letter.

"Shut the window so it can't leave just in case it doesn't want a reply." Winnifred instructed and with a grunt and another cuss Cameron did as asked. "Well? What does it say?"

Harry had barely more than touched the envelope lip when the letter flew from his hands, floated in the air and contorted into a pair of lips that began speaking with whistled 's's and sharp consonants.

"Dear Miss Vaisey. There have been several cases of high levels of magic detected at your place of residence. Should these acts of under-aged magic continue an auror squad will be dispatched to your residence to arrest you and your guardians for breach of the underage wand laws, improper use of magic due to age, and neglectful and abusive exposure to magic when the caster is under-aged and underdeveloped to cope with such magics. Please put down your wand or I shall be forced to take legal action. Yours sincerely, Mafalda Hopkins." The letter primly announced before tearing itself to pieces that floated down to litter the ground.

"Seriously?" Ron spluttered.

Harry snorted then laughed bitterly and raised his wand. Casting the strongest sets of spells he knew, and dangerous ones too so he would attract even more attention, Harry aimed at all the pieces of furniture around them. Cameron joined in too. Winnifred repeated the same incantation over and over again and Serpens just pointed and shot saying any words that came into his young head to get a reaction from the wand in his hand.

Soon fluff, springs and shreds of fabric were flying through the air. Sofas were turned over with scorch marks blackening them. Others had been blasted into pieces, their splinters littering the floor. Some pillows lay torn and strewn about the place. One coffee table was on fire, blazing happily. Another had gouge marks down it. A further coffee table had been turned a luminous yellow then quartered.

Harry let himself sag a little. Tiredness, agony and fever drawing in on him. His arms fell limp to his sides. His head felt too heavy to hold up. He struggled but managed to keep himself upright. His head felt fuzzy though. He'd had enough. His body couldn't take any more.

"Keep going Harry! If we don't they might not come!" Winnifred urged and all Harry could do was weakly try to lift his arm again. Shakily Harry took aim at the locked door.

"Bombarda!" He whispered and…unlike the last few times he'd tried it, the door exploded into smithereens!

"Bloody hell mate!" Cameron swore.

"Harry!" Winnifred gasped.

"SHIT!" That voice wasn't Serpens'.

"MORDRED, MORGANA AND MORGAUSE!" Neither was that one. It was too deep and coming from the wrong direction.

"Whoever you are, stop! We are armed and fully trained aurors! Cease with your show of force else we shall be forced to use offensive magic against you!"

"Finally!" Cameron yelled. "Get in here for Melin's sake! What the hell took you so bloody long?! Did you get lost or something when leaving HQ?!"

Aurors walked through the smoke and debris by the door all holding their wands before them and stepping carefully on the wood shards with their dragonhide boots.

Help was here. At last.

"Oh thank you!" Winnifred ran towards them. "Thank you thank you thank you!" She implored and cried as she ran up to one who relaxed their grip on their wand. Winnifred ran right up to him and gave the auror a big hug, sobbing and whispering her thanks.

Serpens started crying into the crook of his arm, dropping his wand to the floor and just standing there unmoving but crying with relief.

Harry just stared. Relief. Praise. Thanks. Excitement. Exhaustion. Pleasure. _Relief_.

He was relieved. Immeasurably relieved.

So insurmountably relieved that he relaxed. He fell back and fell away. Right away. Fell into a place of calm, of warmth, of no pain, of no worries, of _nothing_.

* * *

AN: Thank you to those who have commented and reviewed so far. Also, thank you to those of you who have added my story to your favourite's list, or who have put the follow alerts on this story.

So this is the first section of the story sorted, captivity is over with. Now how does everybody cope with the aftermath?


	7. Chapter 7

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

* * *

Rejuvenation - Chapter 7

"…well the good news is your fever has cleared and with it so has the infection. You might feel week for a while and sore but that will just be the lingering effects of the infection. I'd like you to take your potion for the infection throughout the day just to make sure it doesn't try to sneak its way back in but then I think you are done with it." The cheery healer with bouncing yellow curls chirped, smiling happily as if the world was all sunshine and daisies. With the glorious sunshine beaming through the windows creating streaks of bright golden light Harry supposed the world was sunshine and daisies. He just didn't feel like it yet and the weather certainly wasn't matching his mood.

"Thanks." He mumbled to the nurse who nodded once, sending those curls into uncontrollable bounces. The woman's earrings, large daffodils, swung around and twisted into her bubbly curls.

"You are very welcome sweetie. Now, can I have a look at your tummy please?" She asked nicely and then helped Harry roll up the night dress he had been put in at the hospital. Apparently it was customary for all the people in the hospital to be provided with St Mungo's own night clothes. Men got pyjamas, women got night dresses, boys got shorts and t-shirt and girls got a nightdress. Cameron had griped about it for ages, _and_ about how uncomfortable hospital clothes were. Harry wondered if Ron would ever be happy again, or if Cameron had ever felt anything but anger. It seemed never ending with Cameron. There had only been a few scant times when Cameron hadn't been up in arms, and that was usually because the teenager was too exhausted or too overwhelmed by something else to allow the anger to rule.

Once the nightdress was rolled up Harry strained his head off the pillow to see what was happening and what his stomach looked like. He was still thin, as was bound to happen, but all the bruising was mending now and even the black bruises from the beating he had endured had been reduced to only a light greeny yellow bruise that, if you didn't know where to look, you probably wouldn't notice.

"Well your bruising is clearing up really well lovely!" That was another thing with this healer, Healer Franklin, she was always using terms of endearment. 'Sweetie', 'lovely', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'doll'…Harry had heard so many of them and he'd only been there a few days. Healer Franklin shot him a smile, made wider and happier with the pink sparkly lipstick. "Just a few more days of using the cream and everything will be as right as rain! Your ribs are fine now, thankfully, just be careful not to fall on them until they've had a while to toughen up. And I think that's us all done! Unless there's something you wanted to ask me treasure?"

"Umm…no not really."

Healer Franklin clasped her hands together and beamed at him. "Alright then sweet pea, I'll leave you to it. If you need anything, same as every other day, just call over one of the medi-witches. I am sure they will be more than happy to help, okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright then gorgeous! And don't forget to smile! It's the key ingredient to healing!"

Harry gave her a half-hearted attempt at a smile which seemed to satisfy Healer Franklin because she beamed even more, if possible, then walked off with an almost noticeable spring in her step. Harry sighed and let his head fall down onto his pillow. Children's healers were weird. Harry hadn't met one yet that hadn't been happy. It was like it was a pre-requisite to being a child's healer that you had a smile permanently etched onto your face and exuded an air of inexplicable happiness and joy no matter what the job obligated you to do.

"Bleh! She's so sweet it makes my teeth hurt." Cameron grossed and Harry rolled his eyes and sat up.

"Yeah well you and your griping is making my head hurt so stop it." Harry griped back.

"Ooooh look at you all-"

"Did somebody say they had a headache?" A medi-witch asked from the end of Winnifred's bed where she was serving the little girl some sausage, mash and peas with gravy.

Harry shrunk down a little and shook his head. Heat blossomed in his cheeks and he looked away guiltily. Ron, unhelpfully, started chortling.

"No." Harry said. "I was joking."

"Ah yes well, you must be very careful with telling porky pies you know Miss Vaisey." The medi-witch said with an arched eyebrow.

"Sorry." Harry muttered and the witch nodded once again contorting her face into a happy smile.

"Good. Well, okay then. It's lunch time." She announced and with a flick of her wand she had Harry back in bed, the covers tucked around his waist and the dinning tray over his lap. The medi-witch bustled over with the trolley with several meals on it and parked it at the end of Harry's bed. She pulled one plate off the trolley and placed it carefully on Harry's lap tray. "Here you are my dear. Sausage and mash. A good hearty meal to help you on your road to recovery."

"Thank you." The whisper was barely there but the woman nodded and smiled then bustled over to Cameron's bed. Another flick of her wand had the protesting Cameron back in bed, pinned in tightly with the blankets and a lap tray positioned perfectly. Harry tuned out Cameron's protests and insults as well as the medi-witch's retorts and subsequent silencing charm.

The sausages and mash weren't bad at all. In fact, compared to the horrible vegetarian spaghetti yesterday that looked more like red goo on soggy pasta strings, it was very nice. It was certainly filling. No more than a sausage into the meal Harry was feeling rather full up. He did manage to eat a little bit more but then that was it. Full to bursting. He didn't even want the pudding but Medi-witch Cavill announced that ice cream only filled up the cracks between the other food you had already eaten so even if you were full up you could eat ice cream. So Harry did. The Medi-witch was right, it seemed, though Harry thought her logic was a little odd.

"LET ME IN! You can't keep me out of there! It's my daughter in there and I want to see her! There's no law in all of England that entitles you to stop me seeing my daughter! Now let me in! LET ME IN I SAY!"

The voice at the door was yelling loudly, so loudly it reverberated around the little room Harry shared with Winnifred and Cameron. They had been hidden away to rest and recover, while also being questioned about their ordeal and being interviewed over and over again so the aurors, the healers and the Unspeakables knew what happened. Not to mention the mind healers, the goblins and this woman from the department of magical registration who, it seemed, was in charge of providing accurate identification papers for each person and because they were now essentially 2 people in one body the woman had a lot of paper work to do.

Only yesterday they finished the papers that clearly stated that Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley had suffered irreparable damage in the line of duty and would therefore not recover. Their death certificates weren't signed because, in the bed across from Harry, Cameron and Winnifred lay Harry, Ron and Honora. All were lying as still as statues. There were spells on them to help them breath. Three times a day a medi-witch would spell food into them. A few other times in the day another medi-witch would spell away any faeces and urine. Twice a week they got a sponge bath and their bedding changed. However they were essentially vegetables, lying still and able to do nothing. They were non-reactive and they would forever be non-reactive, just like the victims of a dementor's kiss only…only it was worse somehow.

A healer had tried to explain what happened during a dementor's kiss in more detail and most of it had gone over Harry's head but he thought he had picked up the main bits. Dementors kissed away the soul by force and torn from the body whereupon the soul was essentially annihilated because of it. Therefore the victims of the kiss would still function and have some brain function to at least be aware of their surroundings, they just weren't able to move far, talk, do anything or think much. Whereas Harry, Ron and Honora's bodies had been subject to their souls being coaxed out of them, not torn like in the dementor's kiss, and therefore the souls were intact, whole and undamaged. Meaning that all that was fundamentally Harry, Ron and Honora got transferred into their new bodies.

That led to the question how did they know things about Mafalda, Cameron and Winnifred. That answer wasn't so nice. The children's souls weren't coaxed out gently or wholly. They were torn out of the children's bodies and therefore left some fragments behind, echoes of memories and of their lives.

Harry had wanted to scream and shout and _break_ things at that announcement. But…but being a little girl, an abused little child who was scare, he had burst into tears instead.

Ron had done the screaming instead. Horcrux's were mentioned which lead to a larger investigation, Minister Shacklebolt being called in, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore being brought to the hospital and the Unspeakables running more and much harder tests.

"No! No I won't leave until I have seen my daughter! WINNIFRED! WINNIFRED!"

Winnifred cringed a little and started frantically wiping her eyes. Harry smiled sadly at her. It was a hard thing to deal with feeling so conflicted about wanting to see mummy and daddy but at the same time knowing they weren't theirs. Harry knew his mum and dad were Lily and James Potter, mentally he knew that. But when he'd heard his daddy outside those doors, Mafalda's daddy, all he had wanted was a cuddle.

Parents were not allowed in. They weren't allowed into the ward, they weren't allowed to peek, they weren't allowed to contact their children yet. Winnifred, Cameron and Mafalda were to be given peace for a while; Medi-witch's orders, Mind healer's orders, Unspeakable's orders _and_ Minister's orders. It wasn't to be mean, or so that they could take advantage of not having a parent present so they needed to ask for parental consent, it was purely because they were all in an unknown situation.

Only a few people, about a dozen people under the strictest confidentiality oaths, knew about what had happened to Harry, Ron and Honora, and the Unspeakables wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. The news that somebody had found a way to remove a soul from one body and put it into another was too horrific to contemplate reaching the general populous. The parents of Mafalda, Cameron and Winnifred couldn't know. Therefore they couldn't see their children until something had been decided.

Until a decision was made Harry had to put up with hearing parents screaming from outside the ward doors, and put up with Ginny and the Weasleys yelling to be allowed in to see Harry and Ron. Nobody came for Honora, but she had always said she was an orphan and alone in the world.

* * *

It felt weird to be in a dress. Weird but comfortable. Strange. Familiar. Stupid! Humiliating! Normal.

"Well? How does it feel?" The mind-healer asked them all. From his corner of the room Harry glanced over at where Cameron and Winnifred were getting dressed. Cameron was already dressed, in black trousers and a Quidditch top declaring support for Puddlemore United. Winnifred was just finishing adjusting the straps on her shoes.

"Fine." Cameron said then pointed over to a pile of clothes in the corner squashed up against the wall. "But I'm not putting those on."

"Okay then Cameron…"

"Ron." Ron corrected and the healer adopted a look of patience but immovability. She would not budge on her decision no matter how much petulance they all had.

"Now _Cameron_," she said putting extra stress on the name 'Cameron', "if you are truly uncomfortable with your full name then search through your memories for a nickname associated with your body. Unless there is a viable alternative then you are, unfortunately, stuck with me using your full name."

"But I hate the nickname even more than my full name!" Ron muttered angrily.

"Well what is it? Surely it's not that bad."

"Oh it is. And I'm not telling!"

The mind healer, Leesa Lowe, turned her attention and her warm chocolate eyes to Harry. "And you Mafalda? How are your clothes?"

"They're fine…I guess." Harry muttered and picked at the smocked decoration on the chest of the dress. It was a purple dress with white flowers scattered randomly all over it. The chest area had been smocked with small diamond shapes all linked to each other and a line of five large purple roses going through the centre of the smocked area. The smocked design only went down to Harry's waist then the dress just fell to her knees. There was a slight brown stain above his left knee on the dress and Harry knew that it was because he had been playing in the woods after it had rained. He had been good and worn wellie boots but that couldn't stop his dress getting mud on it when he'd fallen over.

"Just fine? Tell me, how do you feel wearing it?"

"Um…" He hedged and shyly glanced up at the mind healer hoping he wouldn't have to answer the question. She, however, looked patiently back. Waiting. Drat! "It feels weird."

"Weird?"

"Yes. Weird."

"How exactly?" She really wasn't giving an inch.

"It feels odd to be wearing a dress! Really odd! Like it should feel wrong but it doesn't. Like I should feel uncomfortable but I don't. I know I shouldn't wear dresses but it feels comfortable. It feels like…it feels familiar. I don't think I like it." The dress had been handed over to the hospital by Mafalda's father on the mind healer's request a couple of days before. There were lots of different outfits in Mafalda's pile but one thing was certain; Mafalda didn't own trousers. Everything was dresses or skirts. Even in Mafalda's memories Harry couldn't find a single instance where Mafalda wore trousers or even shorts that went down beyond the knee. Everything was dresses. And usually, all the dresses were handmade by Mafalda's mother.

"Why shouldn't you me wearing a dress?"

"Because I'm a man!" Was Harry's obvious and instinctive response.

"Are you?"

No. And therein lay the crux of the matter.

The meetings about their health and what was going to happen next had been concluded with the decision that they had to get used to being in their new bodies. It had been decided that, for all intents and purposes, they were Mafalda, Cameron and Winnifred. Harry, Ron and Honora were no more. They weren't Harry, Ron and Honora, and there was absolutely no way they could be those people again. The Unspeakables had voted that dabbling with soul magic was too unthinkable and dangerous and that, even after looking at Wollaston's unscrupulous attention to details in his records the Unspeakables would not attempt to recreate the ritual for fear that it would cause more loss of life. Enough was enough, basically. They had filed Wollaston's research away in the darkest depths of their filing system, never to be touched again, and they had put Wollaston into a cell in Azkaban, just like Harry had predicted they would.

Now there was no choices left for them but to accept the cards life had handed them. They had to live on. And living on meant embracing their new bodies. That meant learning to not only accept being a child again but learning to feel comfortable referring to oneself as a girl, by their new names and with their new families. It also meant letting go of the old which was immeasurably hard.

"No…I'm a girl." Harry concluded…then sighed and strictly reminded herself she was Mafalda. Mafalda, Mafalda, Mafalda. It was hard to refer to oneself by a new name, even in your head.

"Yes, you are a girl. Now tell me, as a girl, are you comfortable in your clothes?"

Harry…Mafalda rubbed her forehead then pulled at the dress she wore. No not really. "No. It's…well it's comfortable but I don't like it."

"Why?"

"Because it's hard to climb trees in it. And I always got told off when I made it dirty."

"Good. Well done, that's good! See Winnifred? Cameron? Mafalda has explained her feelings using her memories and reasoning. That was a brilliant example of embracing yourself wholly. Now tell me Mafalda, is there another piece of clothing you like more?"

Harry looked over the pile of dresses on the bed. There were a lot there. All handmade, nearly all of them were smocked and covered in flowers. Nearly all of them were purple too. Mafalda liked purple. Or at least she had for ages but lately she had been liking other colours. She _hated_ yellow. It was the colour of that room she had been stuck imprisoned in. The yellow walls, yellow curtains, yellow furniture. Yellow had once been a sunny colour but now it was ruined forever. Mafalda hated it. She only really liked yellow on Healer Franklin who, this last few days, had taken to wearing red flower earrings, red lipstick and red painted nails. She still had the yellow blonde hair but that was okay.

So what dress did Harry…Mafalda like? She had a favourite dress but was it there? Har-Mafalda rummaged through the clothes and smiled ruefully as she discovered her favourite dress wasn't there. Her next favourite was though so she pulled that one out. It was a checked forest green and white dress with dark panels at the sides of the waist and short loose sleeves. The dress fell to the middle of her knee and was rather loose but it was light and easy to crumple. It was the perfect running, climbing, digging, rolling, cartwheeling, playing dress and because of the darkness of the blue, and the tightness of the checked designs, you couldn't notice areas that stained.

Harry picked it up and smoothed it out.

"Mafalda? Is that one you like more?"

"Yes. It's Mafal…um…it's my second favourite…I think." Harry stuttered and hedged.

"Excellent. Let's see it on you then." Healer Lowe instructed and Harry sighed but began undoing the buttons at the back of the smocked dress he…she was wearing. "Cameron, I want you to pick another outfit to put on now please. Now, Winnifred, how do your clothes feel?"

Harry changed, feeling a lot more settled in the new dress. It was quite plain, all things considered, but actually it was one of the few dresses that Nanna had made and not her mummy. Harry huffed and sat down on the bed rubbing his forehead. It was hard regulating how you thought of yourself. It was unbelievably hard to go one minute thinking as yourself as a boy to the next thinking of yourself as a girl. It was nigh on impossible and it certainly didn't happen overnight.

Harry didn't feel like a girl. Well, he did. He had the body of a girl and now had the dresses of one. But Mafalda wasn't exactly a girly girl and Harry's once more defined notion of what a girl was had all but been eradicated. Harry knew he shouldn't stereotype, especially since Hermione and even Ginny didn't fit the stereotype. But Lily did. She liked dresses and skirts and pretty things and dressing up as a princess. Lily didn't mind getting dirty but she liked having a bath and trying to style her hair, or have her hair styled by Ginny and on the odd occasion Harry.

Now Mafalda was the opposite. Mafalda did wear dresses, often very pretty dresses, and she had her hair styled quite often. But Mafalda didn't like it she just put up with it because it was one of her mother's rules. Mafalda wore the dresses, sat as patiently as possible while her mum did her hair. Then she would go outside and run around getting muddy and dirty, getting bumps and scrapes from climbing trees and get her once neatly done hair in a right tangled mess with twigs, leaves and flowers stuck in between the strands. She would then get told off and made to change, have her hair washed then restyled and the process would repeat itself. On the occasion her mother got fed up with her getting so muddy and dirty and made her stay inside Mafalda would usually end up covered in glue or paint, once she had got so covered in flour and other food products that her mother had thrown out her clothes because they were apparently beyond repair.

So, while Harry knew it was bad to stereotype, Mafalda fit most of the criteria for a boy rather than a girl and Harry just couldn't think of himself as a girl!

"Mafalda?"

It was annoying and Harry didn't like the idea anyway. He didn't want to pretend to be Mafalda. He was Harry.

"Mafalda?"

"What?" Harry snapped, lifting his head to look at Healer Lowe. The healer frowned consideringly, then settled into her chair and linked her fingers in her lap.

"What's going through your head?"

"I…" Harry started then stopped and chewed on his lip. It was fine to be angry in his head but it was harder now to be angry out loud. "I don't…I don't want to stop being Harry!"

"Hm? I don't understand what you mean."

"I don't want to have to pretend to be Mafalda because it's lying and even if I _did_ pretend then what would happen to Harry?! I am Harry I can't just forget the person I've been for the last thirty-nine years of my life just because I'm stuck in this body now! I was Harry for ages! A life time!"

"Yes but you are Mafalda now and you have to accept that."

"Accept it?!" Harry gasped, staring at her in horror. "And what? Pretend the last thirty-nine years never happened to me? Pretend that my wife isn't my wife and my kids are not my kids? My friends, my family…have I got to pretend that none of it is real and none of it happened even though I've got the evidence of them right in front of me?! You can stand there and smugly lecture us about accepting who we are now and fitting the roles pre-scripted by our new identities but you aren't living this! This isn't something you have any chance of understanding or empathising with! I had a life! I had a wonderful life with my job, my wife and my kids! I didn't do this to myself! This was done to me! I am a victim here and just because some psychotic arsehole took away my body _doesn't_ mean I should have to lose everything, _everything_, I hold dear to me!"

"Yes, and I understand that Mafalda but…"

"But what?! You're just an observer on the side lines!" The words were whimpered out because, despite his anger, Harry couldn't hold onto his tears. "You aren't the one who is losing _everything_!"

"You haven't lost everything. You are still alive aren't you?"

"Oh and I'm supposed to be grateful am I?!"

"Well yes actually." Healer Lowe said with a perfectly frank expression on her face. Harry gaped at her, she couldn't be serious!

"_What?!_" Cameron snarled, narrow eyed and stubborn chinned.

"I said yes you should be grateful you are still alive." The healer stated boldly meeting each one of their stares. "So many people died because of that evil man's experiments. You were the very lucky few and _don't _interrupt please Cameron." She shot Cameron that patient but uncompromising look and Cameron's ire was shot down momentarily. Lowe relaxed a little in her chair. "You were lucky, very lucky. Now yes, there is absolutely no return to your old lives. There is no way for you to become who you used to be and therefore you cannot return to your old lives. Yes, you have lost your families. Yes you have to accept your places in different families, doing different things and being rather different people. You have lost a lot, and so too have your families because you are not with them. But think how much worse it would actually be if you had died. Did you consider that?"

"We basically _did_ die! Our bodies are as lifeless as husks out there! We basically are dead to our families! They let Hermione and my kids in yesterday. You should have seen their faces! They were grieving because I was _dead_!"

"Yes I am aware of that."

"And my Rose couldn't stop _crying_! Do you know how rare it is for her to cry?! Do you?!"

"No, Cameron, I don't know. Because I do not have your memories. However, dead to them or not, you aren't dead. You may never be a part of their lives in the way that you were before, but you haven't absolutely lost them. You are still here. You can, in a way, still see them. You can still look after them, in a way. Yes they will grieve the loss of their husband, their dad, their friend, and you too will grieve your loss of them when you properly allow yourselves to grieve." Here she looked at Cameron and Harry for the longest and with the most serious of stares. "But you have to remember that you are still here and you can still play a part in their lives. They aren't lost to you completely. Let that bring you hope."

"Hope…" Harry mumbled. "Hope for what? Hope that I might be _friends_ with my family again?"

"Hope that, given time, you can be a part of their lives again."

Healer Lowe obviously thought her words were wise and helpful. Harry supposed, logically, they were but emotionally they were stunted, unfeeling, uncaring and sour. Harry turned away and curled up to hug his knees. The dress he was in bunched up at the movements and dug into his tummy slightly but he didn't care. He lowered his forehead to his knees and sobbed.

He'd lost Ginny, James, Albus, Lily, Hermione, Rose, Hugo, Andromeda, Teddy, all the other Weasleys…all his friends…his job…

He had lost everything. _Everything_.

"Mafalda, why don't you change back into your night dress? I think we have done enough for the day."

Harry shook his head. No. He didn't want to do anything. There was no point.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

Rejuvenation - Chapter 8

"Right this way please Mrs Potter." The medi-witch said and indicated to the next curtain along which Harry knew his body was hidden behind.

They had closed the curtains earlier hiding Ron, Harry and Honora from view. They knew it was because they were allowing their families to visit because, over the last few days, nearly all of the Weasley clan and friends of Harry and Ron's had visited. Hermione had turned up earlier that morning too with Rose and Hugo earlier for another visit, dressed head to toe in black. The curtains had stayed shut after that visit so Harry had suspected another visit by somebody later in the day. Now Harry watched with scrutinising eyes, not missing one little detail, as his family walked slowly across the room to the curtains.

Ginny was dressed in black with a black veil and small hat on her head. James and Albus were dressed in smart suits that were also black, though the boys had white shirts on. Lily wore a grey top with a knee length black skirt, black tights and a black hair band. So much black. So much black. It was like they were going to a funeral or something. Had somebody died?!

Last time his family had visited his body they had been dressed in normal clothes. They had looked sad, very sad, but not as dismally depressed as they did now.

"Ginny! Ginny dear, I'm sorry I'm so late. Hermione was in such a state." Molly panted as she hurried across the room in a black dress and grey cardigan with a string of pearls around her neck and her hair drawn up into the neatest bun she had ever worn.

"It's okay Mum." Ginny muttered. Lily ran over to Molly and gave her a hug, Molly squeezing her tightly.

"Oh Lily dear, it's okay. It will be alright. Oh Ginny dear are you sure you want them to be here for this? Surely it's not the kind of thing that…" Molly began but Ginny shook her head firmly.

"No. They need to be here. I won't stop them from saying a proper goodbye."

"But to see…" Molly said again with an imploringly desperately sad look on her face. Ginny's lips wobbled but she raised her chin and Harry could see the determination set itself in them. Ginny would not be swayed. That was her stubborn look. It was also her 'I'm only just holding this together so nobody had better set one foot out of line' look.

"No. Harry would have wanted this."

"But the children…"

"I want to be here Grandma. I know what's going to happen and I want to be here. For Dad. And for mum." James said quietly, but in the ward the voices carried.

Molly sighed and wiped her eye with one pristine white handkerchief. She nodded and helped Ginny herd the children in behind the curtain where Harry couldn't see them.

Harry strained up on his bed, pushing himself up onto his knees to kneel at the end of the bed. He couldn't get out of bed. A medi-witch would come over immediately. But he could get as close as possible to his family.

Arthur came running in a few moments later with Hermione accompanying him, and a medi-witch directed them in behind the curtain with the others.

Harry looked over to Cameron who was also leaning over the bed rail at the bottom of the bed, straining to hear. "What's going on?"

"Dunno."

"Me either."

They watched and waited. They heard mumbling. Harry could make out the voices but not what was said. There was a muffling charm around the curtains so that visiting families had privacy when visiting loved ones. Harry had never found it a problem before. But now, since that was his family and his body, it was irritating to not know.

Ginny's voice, a few short words from each of their children; James first then Lily and then Albus. Molly spoke. Arthur muttered something very short. Hermione gave a slightly longer speech, saying what Harry didn't know, but her words were shaky. Then there was silence and a Healer, in lime green robes, entered into the cubicle.

More silence.

A little bit more.

Then sobbing.

Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. They were crying! Why? They all sounded so upset! And he couldn't be with them! He couldn't comfort them or _anything_!

He was just climbing out of bed to rush over when the curtain drew back a bit. A weeping Ginny, with her arms around Albus and Lily's shaking shoulders, walked out with a pale faced, wet cheeked James following behind them.

Ginny didn't look over at him, nor did any of the kids and that sent a sharp pain through his chest at being so unnoticed by his family. Each one of them stared at the floor as they walked to the exit. Albus was openly crying and wiping his nose on his sleeve. Lily's face was a crumpled display of sadness; her eyes were as screwed up as she could get them while still being able to see, tears were streaming down her face, her lips were wet with tears and saliva from where she kept licking them and from where her mouth was open as she cried and small whimpers spilled out. James was trying to look stoic but with pale cheeks, wet eyes and clear tear tracks it was clear to anyone and everyone that he had been crying and from the redness around his eyes he had cried a lot, or was about to.

What had happened? Why were they so sad after visiting him?

And where were Molly, Arthur and Hermione? They still hadn't come out from behind the curtain.

Harry froze mid-climb off the bed to listen and watch. Ginny and the kids left the room hurriedly and while Harry desperately wanted to go with them he needed to know what was going on and why Hermione, Arthur and Molly hadn't emerged yet.

Silence. The only thing Harry could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Absolute silence.

Some muffled words. Harry could hear Molly talking, then Arthur. Finally Hermione spoke.

The silence.

More silence.

That lack of noise was more horrible than the sounds of the pleaded words, as muffled and incoherent as they were.

Then a sniffle. Then a sob. Then a rush of words all with a note of desperation in them, pleading.

A cry of desolate grief.

And Molly and Arthur emerged from the curtains with Hermione between them being held up to walk by her arms. Hermione's face was a picture of absolute devastation; bright red puffy eyes, pale cheeks, tear tracks and makeup trails. Her hair was in disarray. Her legs were shaking, her hands were shaking. She was giving off the tiniest noises of distress as half walked and was half carried out of the room.

Harry made to get off the bed, and from the corner of his eye he could see Cameron had done the same.

"Ah ah! Stay there please." A voice commanded and Harry's body froze, hit by a silent spell that stopped him mid-movement. Half on, half off the bed, he was stuck. The only thing he could do was watch as Hermione was lead out and the large doors closed with an ominous low boom behind them.

The spell was released. Harry jumped off the bed.

"What happened?! What's going on?!" Harry demanded.

"What the hell happened to her?! What happened to Hermione?!" Cameron screamed at the medi-witch who gave them a sad smile.

"Mrs Potter and Mrs Weasley were here today to turn off the life support to their husband's bodies. They were here to say goodbye. Now, it's-it's nothing to concern yourselves with. Hey! HEY!"

WHAT?!

Harry turned and ran before the witch had even finished talking. Half her words didn't make it to his ears. She wasn't a medi-witch he had seen before, wasn't one of the main witches for their ward and therefore probably hadn't been briefed on the situation. But those first words she had said resounded in Harry's head like a badly broken record player, screeching and yelling out the same words on repeat.

'Turn off the life support'.

'Say goodbye'.

Harry made it to the curtain before the witch could react properly. He yanked it back and dived inside, nearly stumbling in his haste. There on the bed was his unmoving body. His unmoving adult body. Pale faced, still, unmoving. Black hair brushed back off his forehead, his lightning bolt scar was showing for all the world to see. His body was dressed up in his most formal wizarding suit and robes. When they did that he didn't know. But his body was dressed up smart, all in black.

His chest was still. Completely still.

Harry reached out a trembling hand. No…they couldn't have. Please say they hadn't! PLEASE!

He let his small hand rest on top of his body's chest, pressing down a little to feel.

To feel nothing. No movement. Nothing.

"Nonononono please…" He whispered cringing at his voice. He reached up and pressed his fingers into Harry's neck to check the pulse point.

Nothing.

No! No it was just that he couldn't find it!

The wrist. Check his wrist.

Harry quickly turned and grabbed his body's arm, lifting it up. It was surprisingly heavy but then again in his now very small hands it was no wonder. Harry found his wrist and pressed his fingers against the area to check for a pulse.

None. Nothing.

He shifted his fingers a little to check again. Nothing. No pulse. No signs of life. Nothing.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes. They hadn't. Please! They couldn't have! They didn't just let him die! Why?! He thought they loved him! Why did they just let him die?! Why?! And why hadn't he been asked about his opinion?! He was still here, just because he was separate from his body didn't mean that he should have any less input into _his_ life! It was his body! HIS!

They had no right! How could they?! How could they do that to him?!

There was a loud bang followed by a grunt of anger. Another bang. A chair came flying through the curtain, smashing on the floor. Harry jumped and leaned over the bed trying to protect the body from whatever harm was coming.

"Cameron! Stop that this instance! Put that chair down! CAMERON!" Came a voice, yelling and screaming.

Another chair flew through the curtains, tearing it down and revealing Cameron lashing out at everything. Cameron picked up the last lightweight visiting chair and threw that at the medi-witch who was rushing over. Then came a vicious kick to the bed. A yell of rage. A string of curse words all vulgar, nasty and filled with anger. Then Cameron started pounding into the pillow, feathers flying everywhere with the rage and fury of each punch.

Something pooled in Harry's eyes. He blinked, then blinked again getting vision back. He looked away from Cameron who was still raging. Harry could hear the pounding of feet and the yells of medi-witches and wizards and healers who were rushing to the scene.

"GET OFF ME! YOU KILLED ME! YOU KILLED ME!" Cameron screamed.

Harry gasped. He pinched his fingers into his body's wrist. Please let there be a pulse. PLEASE!

Nothing.

Harry choked.

"YOU KILLED ME!"

Harry looked through bleary watery eyes over to the still unmoving body of Ron who lay on the bed next to Harry. Ron was unmoving, ghostly pale. His chest did not rise. IT did not fall. He did not twitch. He was still as a statue. As unmoving as the dead.

Dead.

Harry gasped and gasped again, desperately getting air. His chest ached. It was moving too fast. His heart hurt. Dead. Ron was dead.

Harry looked back down.

And so was Harry.

Dead.

Dead.

Harry choked again. The world spun around and Harry fell down to the floor. Desperately he clung to the hand in his. The cold, limp and lifeless hand.

Dead.

He was dead.

They had let him die.

Dead.

Harry screamed.

The sound tore from his throat raw and blood curdling.

It pierced his ears.

It impaled his heart.

It speared his soul.

Dead.

He was dead.

Gasping for breath Harry choked out a sob. He fell forwards and felt his tears drop from his eyes. He could feel the hand in his. The cold dead hand belonging to a cold dead body.

Dead.

They killed him! They let him die! But he was right here! He was here but now they had killed him he had to stay away!

They killed him!

He was dead!

There was no going back.

Harry opened his mouth to yell.

But all that came out was a primal, gut wrenching, soul-chillingly anguished scream.

He screamed.

And he screamed.

He was dead.

Harry was dead.

Mafalda was all that was left.

Harry was dead.

He screamed.

_She_ screamed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Rejuvenation**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

**Summary:** Epilogue compliant. Set 2019. Harry and Ron fall into the hands of a mad 'scientist' hell bent on eternal youth. Naturally, something goes wrong in the experimental stage. His test subjects weren't too pleased about their new roles as guinea pigs. Unfortunately for all involved, there were many casualties along the way; the most important of which being the death of their former lives.

**Warnings:** Gender change. OC character deaths. Kidnapping. Experimentation on human; adults and children. Swearing.

**Pairings:** HP/OC, RW/?

Authors note: This chapter should have been uploaded a few hours after chapter 8, and I apologise that I didn't. Unfortunately I didn't anticipate the hotel having no wifi, and since we attended a three day wedding celebration over Easter Weekend in a place with no wifi I couldn't upload anything else. Not that I truly wanted to think about stories when I was at my cousin's wedding mind you. The best weekend I've had in ages! I'm not the kind of person who parties much, in fact I actually have a social anxiety so being around so many people is truly a very difficult thing for me, but the weekend was amazing and I had so much fun!

This chapter continues to deal with the emotions Mafalda faces now she is rescued and coping with her new role. Last chapter, while horrible, lead us up to a point where Harry accepted life as Mafalda. I don't know if you noticed but the pronoun changed from 'he' to 'she'. That is important. And it was necessary. Unfortunately something truly horrible has to happen to have such a paradigm shift and the tremendous increase of loss and grief was one way to do that.

* * *

Rejuvenation - Chapter 9

"Please eat something Mafalda dear."

Mafalda didn't move. She just lay there. She curled her knees in tighter against her chest. She stared.

They had moved the bodies away. There had been a funeral.

She couldn't go.

* * *

"Mafalda? It's time for your shower!"

Mafalda shook her head. She curled tighter.

"Alright dear, I'll come back later."

* * *

"Treasure?" That was healer Franklin. "I need you to sit up for me."

Mafalda shook her head.

Warm hands stroked her head.

"That wasn't a request sweet heart. I need you to sit up."

"No."

"I'm afraid you have no choice dearest."

Those warm hands gripped her under the armpits and dragged her up.

She struggled. The hands were unflinching and unwavering. They pulled her up and forced her upright.

Mafalda struggled again then felt absolutely exhausted.

"Oh dear. You've worn yourself out. That's what you get when you don't eat anything."

"No." She moaned. A warm hand cupped her cheek and encouraged her to look up.

Healer Franklin smiled with sparkly lips. The corners of her eyes crinkled up making the glittery purple shading there catch the light more. The healer wore a large sparkly butterfly clip in her hair which just added loads and loads of shimmering and glittering colour to the already glitzy, and slightly humorous, look.

"We will eat a bit together, and then clean you up a bit. Afterwards I will let you go back to bed okay?" Mafalda didn't respond, too busy looking at the butterfly clip which had suddenly light up and seemed to explode making glittering butterflies shimmer in the air around it before turning back into a dull but glittering clip.

A spoon was placed at her lips and Mafalda opened her mouth automatically when the warm rich smell of tomato and herb soup reached her nostrils. The soup was warm and creamy on her tongue then extra warmth seemed to explode from inside the soup and Mafalda blinked, swallowing quickly.

"What is it?"

"Oh just a tomato soup." Healer Franklin avoided answering. Mafalda allowed the next spoonful into her mouth and licked her lips after swallowing to savour the taste and the warmth. Healer Franklin smiled and got her another spoonful. "Do you like my clip?"

"Your clip?" Mafalda echoed and looked back at the butterfly clip that once again seemed to explode into dozens of fluttering butterflies around Healer Franklin's head.

"Yes. It's new." Healer Franklin explained. "One of the toddlers I look after loves butterflies. She's really not very well, bless her, and I thought she might like to see some butterflies. So I bought the clip. It's pretty isn't it?"

"Yes." Mafalda agreed quietly and with very little feeling. Healer Franklin just smiled happily and gave her more soup.

Halfway through the soup Mafalda couldn't stomach any more. Healer Franklin didn't push, oddly, she just accepted that and with a flick of her wand had disposed of soup, spoon and bowl.

"Alright then. Up you get sweet pea. I'll help you to the shower then afterwards you can go to bed." Healer Franklin's hands were firm but gentle and they steered Mafalda into the wash room. Once there Mafalda was deposited onto the closed lid of the toilet and handed a toothbrush with toothpaste on it. With a brief instruction to 'brush' Mafalda was left to it while Healer Franklin ran the shower to the correct temperature.

The water was warm. Very warm.

It felt nice.

Mafalda stood under the spray for a while just…just standing there. The water washed over her, soaking her thoroughly, and warming her. She was left like that for a few moments and it was only the door to the washroom closing that had her startling out of her daze for a moment. She stared at the door then around the room. Then she picked up the shampoo and washed her long, long hair. The body wash smelt like mint and something tangy…apples? Wasn't that weird? Well it was the wizarding world.

The door swung open and Healer Franklin walked back in holding a pile of towels and clothes. The healer smiled at her then went about organising what she had brought into different piles. Mafalda finished washing the soap suds off her body then made to climb out of the shower.

"There's no rush poppet." Healer Franklin said with that sunshine bright smile, her yellow-blonde hair bouncing happily.

"I'm finished." Mafalda whispered and the healer nodded.

"Okay then. You washed your hair?" Mafalda nodded. "And conditioned it? Hair this long needs lots of conditioner."

"Um…" Mafalda hummed and shifted from foot to foot. Healer Franklin just smiled merrily.

"Well, the shower is still running. Would you like to pop back in and condition your hair? Or would you like me the try and find some spray in conditioner just for today?"

Mafalda looked between the shower and Healer Franklin unable to decide. Shower again or spray something in her hair?

The memory of being told to stand absolutely still while somebody sprayed a cloud of horrible tasting and smelling stuff all over her hair made the decision for her.

"Shower."

"Good choice." Healer Franklin held open the shower door for her. Mafalda had the feeling that Healer Franklin would have complimented her choice regardless but never mind. Mafalda hopped back in the shower, luxuriating in the wonderful warm water. She picked up the bottle of conditioner and poured a small amount into her hand. "Now don't put that right onto your scalp. Just put it on the longer bits of hair."

Mafalda followed instructions rubbing the conditioner in thoroughly. It didn't lather up like the shampoo had but, strangely, glowed blue instead where it touched her hair.

"Don't worry about that lovely. That's just it working. Wash it off and the glowing will stop." Those chirpy words of encouragement and reassurance helped and Mafalda washed the slick conditioner from her hair then stepped out of the shower again.

Healer Franklin already had a towel waiting for her and as soon as Mafalda was out of the shower the healer wrapped her up in it.

"There now. I'll let you dry off a moment." The healer said happily then stepped over to the two piles of clothes she had laid out. "Now I wasn't sure what you would like to wear so I brought you one of your night dresses and a skirt and t-shirt set so it's up to you. I also brought you some clean underwear but I'll let you chose that too."

Mafalda nodded and dried off carefully. Clothes or bed clothes?

Mafalda picked up her night dress. She might not like it but it was good enough for bed and that was where she was going. Healer Franklin nodded.

"Good plan. I was worried that the skirt I brought you would dig in too if you lay down in it. Never mind, I'll chose better next time."

Healer Franklin was strange. Mafalda was almost certain she was lying but…but with that happy tone it was almost impossible to tell.

Mafalda got dressed then Healer Franklin combed through her hair. Then Mafalda was helped back up into bed and tucked in. Healer Franklin stroked her hair once then left with a skip in her step to go and organise the potions rounds.

Mafalda pulled her pillow down the bed so he could curl around it, cuddling it tightly and sighed.

They had changed the blankets on the bed opposite.

* * *

Soggy, bland, disgusting vomit looking cottage pie. Bleh. Mafalda took two bite of it then pushed it away. She didn't feel like eating and that didn't look like food.

She did take the jelly though. That wasn't too bad. Even though it was yellow.

Mafalda huffed as she tried to get her stupidly long hair to stay behind her. She wished she had a hair band or something but she didn't.

At least her hair was clean.

That was only because Healer Franklin was on duty. The brightly coloured, fluffy unicorns and rainbows, healer had not taken no for an answer and forced Mafalda to eat something then shower. The healer ad then brushed her hair for her and left her to it. Mafalda half dreaded and half liked the eccentrically coloured Healer. Either way it meant she was clean.

Mafalda huffed again as her hair tickled her elbows annoyingly. She pushed herself out of bed and padded over towards the office area at the end of the ward. Luckily nobody stopped her, even though it was very late at night and there were no lights on. Mafalda could only see because she had been awake for hours and her eyes had accustomed to the light.

Pulling open one of the top drawers Mafalda rummaged around for a pair of scissors. She knew there were some in there, the nurses used them to open packets and sharpen quills. Mafalda rummaged a little longer and eventually found a pair amongst the hundred or so quills and inkwells. Taking them she ran over to the washroom, turned on the light and shut the door firmly.

It took a moment before her eyes were accustomed to the light but once that was done she grabbed the small step stool and dragged it to the sink so that she could see in the mirror better.

Right. Time to do something about the ridiculously long hair.

Mafalda didn't even care that her mummy liked it long. Mummy was dead…and so was Mum. Neither Griselda or Lily could have any say over Mafalda's hair now. Mafalda grabbed a bunch of it and sliced it off.

* * *

Mafalda's eyes hurt. So did her heart. And her throat.

She had spent the day crying. The healers and medi-witches hadn't liked her chopping off her hair. She had been lectured and told off by almost all of them. Even healer Franklin had looked disapprovingly at her. They had even had to cut her hair again to correct the damage. There had been talk about a hair growth potion but they decided against it and instead gave her some hairbands.

Still, everything had upset her. They didn't understand. How could they? They might know she used to be Harry Potter, at least some of them knew. But to them it was just an idea.

They weren't living it.

She was.

And she hadn't needed an adults permission to do anything in years.

It was only hair anyway.

It wasn't like she had cut off a life…not like they had.

* * *

It was night time again.

Everywhere was black. Everything was silent.

Mafalda slipped out of bed. She had been waiting and waiting and now it was the right time. She knew she only had moments after her feet had hit the floor to make a run for it but she had it all planned out.

She was leaving the ward.

She would come right back later. But for now she was getting out. It was summer time and St Mungo's had a little flower garden on the roof during summer. That was where she was going. She hadn't been outside in weeks…months.

It was like swapping one prison for another…and one prison inside of that one.

Mafalda's feet hit the floor and she ran for the main door. She yanked it open just as she heard a light go on in the back office. She didn't chance a look back, she hoped the pillow she had put under her blanket would buy her time.

She slipped through the door, pulling it closed behind her and holding her night dress back so it wouldn't get caught in the door like it was trying to.

Then she ran for the stair case. She had been at St Mungo's long enough to know where things were because of all the times she had needed to visit Mungo's for check-ups, healing after an op gone wrong, or even just to interview people. And then there were the visits with the kids and with Ginny, and visiting friends and colleagues. Harry had been to the hospital a lot, Mafalda had too…by default.

Running wasn't easy because she got tired easily and the limited food she had been eating hadn't helped. But she could at least rush. And the stairs had banisters so when she started getting really tired she dragged herself up on them. By the very top, at the flower garden, she was crawling. IT was embarrassing but…but at the very least she was technically a kid so she could get away with it. And nobody who knew who she really was would know.

Mafalda slipped through the door to the roof space and slid carefully around tables and benches to the very back of the garden. It wasn't because it was a better view, or because it had nicer flowers. It was just because being the furthest you could get from the door meant you were more isolated…and it would take people longer to reach you.

Mafalda leaned against the rail, resting her chin on the top rail and looking out over London. London was London. Muggle London was oddly dark but there were a few street lights on. Mafalda could see some foxes prowling here and there, the occasional person lingering on the streets. Some houses had lights on. From where she stood she could see there was a TV on in one house, the screen a slightly blue colour but other than that there was no definition to the picture because Mafalda was too far away from it. Many streets away some flashing blue lights were moving around. Police.

Perhaps the best bit of the flower garden was that it gave the best view of the stars and Mafalda was so high that there were no lights disturbing her. Not even the lights of the floating flames in glass jars littering the roof garden.

Ursa Major and minor were visible. Draco was there too. Mafalda thought she could see Jupiter but she couldn't be sure. Besides which she didn't really like astrology much at Hogwarts. It was a bit boring. The only thing that was interesting that happened during astrology was when Umbridge and her gang attacked McGonegall with stunners and caused an uproar.

Still. The stars were pretty anyway. Mafalda used to watch them sometimes when she was hiding from her parents because she didn't want to have mummy see that she had got mud on her clothes again.

Harry used to watch the stars with Albus and Lily. James was never interested. But Lily and Albus liked to watch. They hadn't even cared that Harry couldn't name many of the things they were seeing. They had at least connected the stars to form constellations. Albus liked Pegasus. Lily's favourite was Hercules which wasn't visible yet because it wasn't autumn.

* * *

Mafalda hid behind the table in the café and slid down low in her seat so she wouldn't be found straight away. She had gone off for a walk, carefully timing it to perfection to slip out while the door was still open from Cameron leaving with the mind healer for their twice daily sessions. If the door closed she would be stuck in because the healers, medi-witches, mind healer, Unspeakables and aurors didn't want her wandering around.

Well tough. Mafalda didn't want to be stuck in one place anymore. Especially not with people who kept asking her questions about her feelings. 'How are you feeling today Mafalda?', 'are you still feeling sad Mafalda?', 'cheer up Mafalda', 'do you feel you are dealing well with your grief?'.

What did they think her answer was going to be?! Both Harry and Mafalda both agreed they needed to leave her alone and give her some space.

Harry had never dealt with loss well. Usually he got angry and sullen, quick to lose his temper and he kept everyone at arms length when he was like that.

Mafalda was the same. She didn't keep people away so much as kept herself away from people. She always got quiet, despondent. She had done it when a foal on the farm had died, she did it when mummy was killed, she did it when Sigmund was murdered, she did it when she expected to die herself very shortly and she did it now.

"…again! It's the fifth time this week! She disappeared twice yesterday. I'm fed up of running around the hospital trying to find her." One healer on the table behind her complained to her friend.

"Sounds to me like she's trying to tell you something." The other healer pointed out but the first healer just scoffed.

"What?! That's she's a misbehaving little brat? Yeah, thanks. I got the message."

"No. It sounds to me that the little girl just needs some space to get out. I know I would if I had been imprisoned by a murderer and experimented on and then thrown into a hospital ward and imprisoned there too. I read the articles on it in Daily Prophet. That bastard experimented with their memories! They took memories from one person and forced them into another! How horrible must that be? Living with memories that aren't yours. And then on top of that the article pointed out that the kid's families still haven't been able to visit them. It's been what, three or four weeks now?"

"Yeah I do admit that I think that's bang out of order. But there are a lot of people that are saying that can't happen yet. The children aren't stable for a lot of reasons. One is seeing a mind healer twice a day for anger issues. That other one keeps running away. Only one of the girls is being good and that's just because she's too scared I think."

"Yeah well if you ask me those children aren't being looked after properly. Hey now don't get all uppity! I don't mean you! I mean in general. I think they've been wronged a lot."

Mafalda crossed her arms over her chest. Yeah, they could say that. Didn't change anything. There was saying and there was doing. And nobody was doing.

Oh crap…maybe they were.

"Mafalda! I have been looking high and low for you!" The medi-witch from the ward said with a scowl. She had her hands on her very wide hips and loomed over Mafalda.

Back to the ward.

* * *

Mafalda lay very still just staring at the bed opposite her.

It was full.

But not with Harry. Obviously. Because Harry was dead now. So was Ron.

And as of yesterday so was Honora.

Having no family the only person the people in charge could turn to concerning Honora's life support was Honora herself, inside Winnifred's body. Winnifred had agreed, sadly. Then spent the last two days weeping.

Hatefully Mafalda thought that now Winnifred could understand why seeing themselves dead had effected them so much. Now maybe she wouldn't judge Mafalda and Cameron.

But that was mean, and Mafalda crossly told herself off for thinking it. She tried offering comfort to Winnifred but that had just meant they had ended up curled on the bed crying together and then she felt even worse.

And now there were other people across the room. All teenagers, two were boys and one was a girl. Apparently they had been involved in a bit of an accident involving a magic carpet, two brooms and a bludger gone wild. Mafalda didn't know the details and she didn't care to. She kept away. Oddly the arrival of the other teens had proved helpful to Cameron. Cameron, having attended Hogwarts previous to capture, had been friends with two out of three of the teens. Asher Stone and Malachi Predergast were on the Quidditch team with Cameron Wood so they knew each other from that, the third person in the group was Sinead Fitzpatrick who played for Hufflepuff as a chaser. Quidditch was apparently the main topic of conversation between the four of them. Cameron had settled into it perfectly, the knowledge of being Ron helping a lot it seemed.

Mafalda was glad Cameron was feeling more at ease. She really was.

But it just made her feel even more alone and sad than before.

She slipped off the bed and carefully made her way around the edge of the room to hide in the curtain bunched conveniently close to the door. It took a while of waiting but eventually somebody came into the room. Mafalda slid from her hiding place and out of the room as quickly as she could then took the short corridor along to the stairs.

It was late evening and reasonably busy in the hospital. While that wasn't great because there were witnesses and people who could see her and report her, there was also the chance that somebody would mistake her for an ordinary child. Since she was wearing everyday clothes, a lilac and very dark purple dress, she hoped they would over look her.

She made her way up the stairs then along the little corridor to the last flight of stairs going up that last little bit to the roof and the flower garden. It was still buzzing, lively and bright. Since it was late July it was only to be expected that the beautiful sunshine hadn't ended yet. That just made it so much more of a shame that they were cooped up indoors.

Mafalda loved being outside. Harry didn't care much either way as long as he wasn't isolated or stuck in one room. Mafalda didn't mind isolation but only when she sought it herself, and only in large open spaces.

Mafalda stroked her finger along one of the large petals of a white lily. Beautiful. Going to stand by the railing at the back she was surrounded by roses and she could look out over the streets below. They were more lively too now, more so than they had been late at night that one time. Mafalda didn't know what she preferred though; a woman dragging a screaming child along all the while doing some ranting and raving of her own, or a fox scavenging for its dinner and getting into fights with other foxes.

Time moved on. Mafalda stayed watching and getting lost in her thoughts. It was only when she started getting tired and very thirsty that she decided to leave the flower garden. She wiped her face, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the last bits of her tears, and turned away from the railings right into somebody wearing a whole lot of white.

"Oh. Sorry." Mafalda muttered and looked up at the person's face to gauge whether they were angry or not. And there, looking down at her with fresh light pink lips was Healer Franklin. Her eyes were decorated with a whole heap of fresh light green topped with a flushed pink and crinkled with a smile. Mafalda gaped for a second then huffed out a sigh and looked away. "Hi."

"Hello. The roses are nice today aren't they?" Healer Franklin asked with a chirp.

"I suppose so?" Huh? No telling off? No disapproval? No badly veiled snide comments? Not that Healer Franklin ever did that, she only got these sad disappointed looks that made you feel terrible. Even though Mafalda had no right feeling terrible about wanting to be outside.

"Mm. Yes well, I prefer hibiscus flower to be honest. I think their colours are far nicer than roses though nothing says I love you better than a rose. Or several roses." Healer Franklin voiced her thoughts with a strange faraway look on her face and a smile on her lips.

"Um…I like lilies." Mafalda offered and Healer Franklin snapped out of it and gave Mafalda a bright glowing look.

"Oh good choice. Lilies are beautiful! What else do you like? And please don't say buttercups."

"Umm…" What flowers did she like? Harry didn't like flowers. And Ginny wasn't bothered really so Harry never bothered. But Mafalda did like seeing the wild flowers. She especially loved it in very early spring, before you even knew the season had changed, because of one particular flower. "Snow drops."

"Oooh! Now that is absolutely, most definitely, a good choice. Snow drops are so perfect!" The healer's smile was so wide it looked almost painful except Healer Franklin's whole demeanor was sparkly, happy and…and something else. She always looked glowing. Like something big just made her happy all the time.

"Why are you always happy?" Oh! Oops! Mafalda hadn't meant to say that! She looked down quickly and studied the floor. She scrunched up her bare toes a little and hoped to avoid looking at Healer Franklin. She thought she had grown out of randomly blurting questions out! It had certainly been a lesson well learned growing up in the Dursley's house! And Harry had known when to ask questions, when to demand answers and when to keep his questions to himself and do some research later. Mafalda's cheeks flamed a hot red. How embarrassing! And to ask such a personal question as well.

"I suppose it's because I do lots of little things each day that make me happy."

Having her embarrassingly personal question answered was a little shocking. Mafalda peeked up. Healer Franklin was tapping her chin and frowning a little in thought.

"Yes. I suppose that's it. I do little things each day that make me happy. I try to make other people happy too which makes me even happier. And for the rest of it I suppose that I just enjoy everything I do! And that's important you know. If work becomes a chore then you get depressed and that's terribly unhealthy. But if you can think of work as a fun thing, a game if you like, then you can be a whole lot happier!"

"What little things do you do that make you happy?" Mafalda asked tentatively. Since her first question had been asked maybe this one would too.

"Oh well let me see…" Healer Franklin tapped her chin three more times thinking, then she leaned down and pointed to her eyes. "Everyday I try to think of a new way to put my make up on! I try to find silly things for the days that I'm working. This week I've been trying to use the colours of fruits to inspire my make-up. Can you tell? I've got watermelon eyes today! Tomorrow I am absolutely being a strawberry." Healer Franklin giggled and as Mafalda imagined the healer as a strawberry she had to laugh too. "And then I always get to help you brush your hair, that cheers me up. It's so relaxing brushing somebody's hair. And what else…let me see…I pull funny faces with the little ones, they love it and hearing them laugh makes me happy. At the end of every day I have a long bath with lots of bubbles because it's one of my favourite things ever to do."

"Oh."

"Yes well, that's just me. What do you do to make you happy Mafalda?"

Happy? Mafalda hadn't felt happy for a long time. Healer Franklin was looking curious and patient though. Since the healer had answered all Mafalda's questioned she supposed she should answer too. Like a deal.

"I go for walks. I fly. I…I play with my…" Mafalda paused and sniffed as she stopped that trail of thought. She couldn't stop it entirely though. "…my family."

"Hmm. Walks are good aren't they? You got to go and see so many wonderful things! Like animals in trees. Like muggle hot air balloons floating in the sky." Healer Franklin said then turned and arched her brow at Mafalda. "Like flowers up on roofs, and runaway children who had you worried sick but you've now managed to find."

Ah. The disappointed look. Mafalda looked away. She wouldn't apologise. She wouldn't.

"I am glad you are safe and that I found you. I stayed with you up here for a long while you know." Healer Franklin continued with a quieter voice, soft like she was telling a secret. Mafalda looked at her. She looked so earnest and honest. "You should be allowed time up here, time away from that room. And I understand why they didn't let you, but that doesn't mean it is right. You needed the time here to relax a little, to cheer you up. Although, I notice you haven't been entirely happy up here."

Healer Franklin reached out and with the pad of her thumb wiped away something on Mafalda's cheek.

"You've been crying Mafalda. I'm so sorry you have been so sad."

Mafalda sniffled and lowered her head again. Warm arms enveloped her, pulling her in for a comforting and loving hug. Mafalda leaned into it, barely holding back more tears and another sniffle.

"I know what you've been through. And I know what you are facing." Healer Franklin pulled back and smoothed the skin beneath Mafalda's eyes again giving her a hopeful smile. "I don't pretend to comprehend how hard everything must be for you now, knowing what you know but being who you are now. Just know that even with everything you think you have lost, something amazingly good is going to happen soon. Okay? Remember that for me, even if you don't believe it."

Mafalda nodded silently. She didn't really know what to say. She didn't believe those words at all, she couldn't. The world wasn't like some big trade off; suffer more to get greater rewards! It didn't work like that. But still she nodded. Healer Franklin lowered her chin and stood up straight again.

"Anyway. Come on." She wrapped an arm around Mafalda's shoulders. "There's something waiting for you back on the ward."

"What is it?"

"Now, now, that would be telling."

They walked back to the ward with Healer Franklin's arm securely but comfortingly around her shoulder. Mafalda didn't feel like she was being frogmarched or steered. She didn't feel like she was being forced to walk either. The arm around her shoulder was almost draped there. It was caring, it was nurturing and it was guiding. Oddly, never once did Mafalda feel like Healer Franklin was patronising her or being condescending with her actions. It was nice…just that little bit of love after a whole hatful of hate.

Healer Franklin nodded, smiled and greeted various people as they walked. Some healers made a comment which Healer Franklin somehow batted away with her air of joy and love for the world. An arched eyebrow was what some disparaging remarks earned but other than that Healer Franklin just greeted people and all but floated down the stairs and corridors.

At the ward doors another healer, a young man, quickly jumped forwards and opened the door for them with a shy smile. When Healer Franklin smiled and merrily thanked him he blushed with pride and humility, smiling back and stammering out a 'not at all'. Healer Franklin steered Mafalda around the open door and back over towards her bed.

And there on the chair next to her bed was a man. A man she knew. She froze.

Tall, with the same square face she saw whenever she looked in the mirror, the man had slightly dirty cream trousers and dark brown boots. His shirt was clean, but his waist coat wasn't with a bit of straw sticking out of one shoulder. His skin was pale, hair unkempt, and facial hair more unkempt than she had ever seen it before.

"Daddy." Her mouth whispered. Memories fogged up her brain as tears welled up inside her eyes. As Harry she knew it was Mafalda's Daddy and not hers…but…but she and Harry were one in the same and Harry was gone. Gone, gone, gone. He was dead. They had killed him. He was a her now, and her name was Mafalda. And that was her daddy. "My daddy."

"Mafalda!" The man sat up with astonishment and excitement. He unfolded from the chair, uncrossing his legs, and standing upright as quickly as he could. He took a step forwards, eyes glowing with excitement, relief, love and so many other things. Mafalda felt tears well up in her eyes.

Then he paused and the look in his eyes became guarded. He looked over her frantically but reservedly.

"Mafalda?"

Mafalda's breath caught.

There was a twitch in the man's left hand like he wanted to reach out. His body was jerking forwards and backwards a little like he was restraining himself. He looked so worried…so guarded like he suddenly wasn't sure of the situation.

But it was her daddy. Mafalda's daddy. _Her_ Daddy!

And all she wanted was a hug.

"Daddy…" She blubbered, voice and mouth thick with tears, eyes completely blurred and heard thumping like wild horses. She stumbled forwards a step wanting to be closer. Needing to be closer.

Her daddy's face crumbled. He took a huge stride forwards, then another. "Oh my precious girl!"

Mafalda gasped out a cry, tears falling from her eyes now. Her heart hurt. It hurt so much. It _ached_! She wanted a hug. That was all she wanted in the world. She had lost so much! SO MUCH! All of it gone! She was in a strange body, strange memories that weren't hers but felt like it, feelings for people she had never even met as Harry, Harry being dead…but right now…right at that very second the only thing Mafalda could think of was how happy she felt just having a hug with her daddy.

Just a hug.

She toppled forwards and broke into a run.

Just a hug. That was all she wanted.

And she could have it if she could get to her Daddy.

She couldn't run fast enough.

Her daddy fell to his knees.

She ran harder, pumping her arms in time with her legs. Her dress flapped around her legs, her bare feet hammered on the ground.

His arms opened just in time to catch her. She crashed into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into them.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her back, gripping her so tightly with his strong arms she thought her bones would shatter under the pressure. But she didn't want it to go away. Not again. She didn't want her daddy to go away again. She didn't want anything or anyone to ever go away again.

She stifled a sob.

"Oh my gorgeous Mafalda. I've missed you so much baby girl! So much!" Her daddy said and a hand ran through her hair then went back to hugging her tightly.

Mafalda coughed out a sob then couldn't stop the tears and the hysterical crying.

Her daddy hugged her as tightly as he could and she tightened her arms around his neck.

"It's okay, it's alright. It will all be okay now Mafalda. I am here. Daddy's here. I've got you. It will all be okay."

* * *

Author's note: I hope I managed to convey how despondent and isolated Mafalda feels. Depression and grief are terrible things and very hard to deal with. I truly believe that a person cannot truly comprehend the magnitude and the incredible effects something like depression unless they have actually suffered with it. Therefore it is a very difficult thing to convey in writing, expressing a depression so deep and dark and yet not one that only leads to suicide because many depressions don't. I hope I managed that successfully. And now, at long last, the sun has broken through the oppressive black clouds and let some light back into Mafalda's life.


End file.
